"Oh, if it's an insult to speak the simple truth, I'm quite out of it. I never could call spades agricultural instruments: and I can't start new habits at my time of life. I don't deny you've made a good thing out of your pictures. But no one in their senses could call your marriage an act of wisdom."
Nevil winced visibly. "I married for the only defensible reason," he said, in a low controlled voice. "And events have more than justified me."
"Possibly—so far as you're concerned. But you can't get over the fact that—even if Roy marries the best blood of England—his son may revert to type. Dr Simons tells me——"
"Will you hold your tongue!" Nevil blazed out, in a white fury. "I'll thank you not to discuss my affairs—or Roy's—with your damned Doctor. And the subject's barred between us—as you're very well aware."
She blenched at the force and fire of his unexpected onslaught, never dreaming how deeply her thrust had gone home.
"Goodness knows it's as painful for me as it is for you——"
"I didn't say it was painful. I said it was barred."
"Well, you goad me into it, with your unspeakable folly; too much under Lil's thumb to check Roy, even for his own good. For heaven's sake, Nevil, put your foot down firmly, for once, and reverse your crazy decision."
He gave her a long, direct look. "Sorry to disappoint, after all the trouble you've taken," he said in a level tone, "but I've already told you the matter's settled. My foot is down on that as firmly as even you could wish."
"You mean it?" she gasped, too incredulous for wrath.