Mrs. Story, sunk in the old high-backed arm-chair near the fire, followed him, too, aware also of the change in the boy, wondering what lay in the mind of her daughter, camped at her knee on the hearth rug, listening so intently and yet clinging to her as though for instinctive protection.
Stover spoke only of outward things; the thoughts that lay beneath, that would have come out so eagerly before the girl, did not appear in the presence of another. As he understood nothing of this sudden introduction of a third into the old confidential relationship, he decided to be more formal than the girl, and rose while still his audience's attention was held by his account.
"It's been awfully jolly to see you again," he said with a perfect manner to Mrs. Stover.
"But you're going to stay to dinner," she said, with a little smile.
"Awfully sorry, but I've got a dozen things to do," he said, in the same careful, matter-of-fact tone. "Bob sent word he'd come later."
Jean Story had not urged him. He went to her with mechanical cheeriness, saying:
"Good-by. You're looking splendidly."
She did not answer, being in one of her silent moods. Mrs. Story went with him towards the door, with a few practical housekeeping questions on the ménage that had just begun. As they were in the ante-room, Jim Hunter entered and, greeting them, passed into the salon.
Stover, deaf to anything else, heard her greeting:
"Why, Jim, I am glad to see you."