There was rather a long pause. Clayton's face was expressionless.
“Since when?”
“Last fall, sir.”
“Does your mother know?”
“I told her, yes.” He looked up quickly. “I didn't tell you. I knew you disliked her, and mother said?” He checked himself. “Marion wanted to wait. She wanted to be welcome when she came into the family.”
“I don't so much dislike her as I—disapprove of her.”
“That's rather worse, isn't it?”
Clayton was tired. His very spirit was tired. He sat down in his big chair by the fire.
“She is older than you are, you know.”
“I don't see what that has to do with it, father.”