He sat down beside her, smiling and looking so utterly unlike the glum, discontented youth she was accustomed to see that Edith could barely conceal her astonishment.
“I’ve got an awful lot to say to you,” he volunteered at last. “What a jolly little room you have here--just the kind of things I like!”
“Well, you must come and like them a little oftener,” said his step-mother with a friendly smile.
He glanced at her uneasily.
“I expect I must seem an awful ass to you,” he remarked with sudden candor.
Edith shook her head.
“Dear no,” she said, “nor am I a very terrible person either, when you come to know me!”
“Oh, you,” said the boy, flushing scarlet--“you’re ripping! I can’t think why I’ve never noticed it before.”
Edith concealed a smile at this belated tribute; she wondered what he was going to notice next.
“Would you mind,” he began anxiously--“are you quite sure you wouldn’t mind, if I came here regularly--in between terms at Oxford, I mean--instead of going to Mallows?”