“Have you just discovered it?” said Aymer drily.
“He is no respecter of persons,” pursued Nevil 123 quietly; “by the way, has it ever struck you, Aymer, that he’ll marry some day?”
“There’s time before us, yet. I hope. He isn’t quite sixteen, Nevil.”
“Yes, but there it is,” he waved his hand vaguely. “I think of it for myself when I look at Max sometimes.”
Aymer wanted to laugh out loud, which would have reduced his brother’s communicative mood to mere frivolity, and he wished to get at what lay behind, so he remained grave.
“There’s Patricia, too,” went on Nevil in the same vague way. “She, too, will do it some day. It’s lamentable, but unavoidable. And talking of Patricia brings me back to Christopher’s remarkableness.”
He related the little scene he had just witnessed in his slow, clear way, made no comment thereon, but poked the fire meditatively, when he had finished.
Aymer, too, was silent.
“You are her sole guardian, are you not?” he asked presently.
“With Renata. I wonder, Aymer, if anyone could have controlled that unhappy Connell?”