Following a sudden impulse, she, who had trained herself to do so few things on impulse, called out, "Is that you, my darling?"
The door opened. "Yes, mother. Here I am. May I come in?"
He turned and shut out the bright electric light on the landing, and walked, a little slowly and uncertainly in the darkness, towards where he knew the bed to be. For a moment she wondered whether she should turn on the lamp which was at her elbow, then some sure, secret instinct made her refrain.
She put out her hand, and pulled him down to her, and he, so chary of caress, put his left arm round her.
"Mother?" he said softly. "This dear old room! It's years since I've been in this room—and yet from what I can see, it's exactly the same as it always was!"
And, as if answering an unspoken question, she spoke in very low tones, "Hardly altered at all since the day you were born here, my dearest, on the happiest day of my life."
His strong arm tightened about her a little, and, still looking straight before her, but leaning perhaps a little closer into the shelter of his arm, she said tremulously, inconsequently it might have seemed: "Oliver? Are you going to accept Lord St. Amant's invitation?"
With a sharp shoot of hidden pain she felt his movement of recoil, but all he said was, very quietly, "I've not quite made up my mind, mother."
"It would give me pleasure if you were to do so. He has been a very good and loyal friend to me for a long, long time, my dear."
"I know that."