"Talking of advice," said Peter, abruptly—"if I wanted that, I'd rather come to you than to old Crawley. After all, though you won't be my guardian much longer, you're still my mother's trustee."
"Yes," said John, smiling; "the law still entitles me to take an interest in—in your mother."
"Of course I shouldn't dream of mentioning her affairs, or mine either, for that matter, to any one else," said Peter.
He made an exception in his own mind, but decided that it was not necessary to explain this to John, for the moment.
"Thank you, Peter," said John.
"My mother—seems to me," said Peter, slowly, "to have changed very much since I went to South Africa. Have you noticed it?"
"I have," said John, dryly.
"I don't suppose," said Peter, quickening his steps, "that any one could realize exactly what I feel about it."
"I think—perhaps—I could," said John, without visible satire, "dimly and, no doubt, inadequately."
"The fact is," said Peter, and the warm colour rushed into his brown face, even to his thin temples, "I—I'm hoping to get married very soon; though nothing's exactly settled yet."