"You are a dear, good boy," she said fondly to him in the evening, when, with a book before him and his gloomy eyes fixed on the fire, he was sitting, dreading her observation of his countenance; "you are always so good in following your poor old mother's advice. I see you leave the Rivers girls alone. You must not overdo it, dear. If there is money—if it would not be an imprudence it would not be a bad thing, and then, you know, they might resent your having given them quite up. Could you not keep friends without——"
"Without what, mother?" he asked, in a hoarse voice which startled her a little.
"I am hunting for a word, my dear," she answered candidly; "I want a word to express my meaning and that would not sound too strong."
Paul laughed ironically.
"Hunt on, mother, and when you have found the word you can tell me again."
"It is so tiresome of you to laugh, but what I want to say is, that there would be no harm in your paying a certain amount of attention, always providing you did not quite commit yourself."
"And if the girl got fond of me," asked Paul, looking at her with glowing eyes, "what then, if I had not committed myself?"
"My dear Paul! No well-brought-up girl would think of getting fond of you, would be in love with you, till you had said something. At least," said Lady Lyons, drawing herself up and looking very virtuous, "in my younger days girls would have thought it very wrong."
"Now it strikes me, mother, that this idea of yours is very cold-blooded and cruel; does your love for me so blind you that you cannot see this?"
"I am cold-blooded and cruel! Oh, Paul, what have I done," said the poor woman helplessly, "that you should call me bad names like this?"