“Does Murray live here?” asked Nancy of her husband.
“Yes, this is his home. Now, see that you do not spoil him; he is a fine little chap, but the soft ways of a woman about him just now would be his destruction.”
“You don’t really mean that, Adrian; surely at Murray’s age more than at any other time, he——”
“I differ from you, my love,” said her husband. “Hush!”
He interrupted her words: she glanced down the room. Out of the darkness came a high-pitched glad voice, a gay laugh followed, and then the flashing of bright eyes, the charm of a noble little face, and the boy seated himself frankly and confidingly by his new aunt’s side.
“I left Roy in the other room,” he said, looking up at her; “I do not want Roy now.”
“Have a glass of wine, Murray?” said his uncle.
The boy held out his glass, which Rowton filled to the brim.
He drank it off and his tongue began to chatter.