"Well, they don't," he laughed, "unless they are idiots, then they do, perhaps," at which she laughed too, and thought of Hannah. "I expect the scenes with Arthur gave you a few bad moments, didn't they?" he asked.
"She wept," her father said, evidently amused at the recollection.
"That's all right." Tom beamed with satisfaction. She was a nice girl, he thought, so of course she wept; she ought to weep at seeing that sort of thing for the first time. Then he turned to Mr. Vincent. "My father would be glad to think I had seen you at last," he said; "he often wondered why you never turned up."
"I have not turned up anywhere for more than five-and-twenty years," Mr. Vincent answered. "If I had he would have seen me." He was looking at Tom with downright pleasure, at his six feet of growth and broad shoulders, at his frank face and clear blue eyes. This was the sort of boy that a man would like to have for a son, he thought; and then, after a moment's characteristic hesitation, he said: "Stringer told us that you went to Hindhead sometimes; perhaps one day you would get over and see us?"
"Should like it," said Tom, heartily.
"You have left Oxford, of course?"
"Oh yes, last year."
"Any ambitions?"
"Plenty. But I don't know whether they'll come to anything. I believe there'll be an unpaid under-secretaryship presently, and by-and-by I hope to get into the House. Politics are rather low down, you know, Miss Vincent, so they'll suit me. What did you think of Miss Hunstan? I saw her last night; she had fallen in love with you."