"You remember our last conversation in this room?"
He knitted his brows.
"I remember it," he answered.
"I want to carry it on now; we have come to the second chapter."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Our last conversation was introductory. Now the story opens. You have behaved very well, quite as well as I could have expected, during the time that Sharstons and Sir John Wallis have stayed here."
"I am glad you are pleased with my behaviour; but in reality I did not behave well: I mean according to your lights. I am just as much a rebel as ever."
"Maurice, my dear boy, try not to talk nonsense; try to look a little ahead. How old are you?"
"I shall be six-and-twenty early in the year."
"Quite a boy," said Mrs. Aylmer, in a slightly contemptuous voice. "In ten years you will be six-and-thirty, in twenty six-and-forty. In twenty years from now you will much rejoice over what—what may not be quite to your taste at the present moment, though why it should not be—Maurice, it is impossible, absolutely impossible, that you should not love that sweet and beautiful girl."