Basil, then, suspected nothing; Geoffrey would think what Basil told him to think; his father would awake to interest when the engagement was announced—and not before. There remained his mother and Sybil.
Lady Lane was by herself in the drawing-room, when he went down, and she laid aside her paper to say:
“My dear, what a sweet little girl! Where did you find her?”
Whether it were deliberate encouragement or not, Eric was pleased:
“I met her in America first of all. She’s a daughter of the judge. I gather he knew the guv’nor in some prehistoric period.”
“I don’t remember the name.” Lady Lane waited, as though she expected that Eric might have something more to tell her; then she repeated: “A sweet little girl. You’re lucky to find her. What’s happened to the other one?”
“She’s only having a holiday. Ivy very kindly volunteered to come in her place.”
He used the Christian name deliberately and left his mother to draw her own inferences. There was a second silence; and, because she asked nothing more, he felt that, before he left the house, he must take his mother into his confidence.
Throughout dinner he tried to keep one eye on his family and the other on Ivy. She was achieving a marked success, which was not confined to his younger brothers. Sybil and the Warings made at least a show of surrender, and her success reacted on Ivy. Though she dared not look at him, Eric could see that her eyes were shining as on the day when he had brought her back from Maidenhead; she was feeling, as clearly as if she cried it aloud, that he had the most delightful parents and brothers and sister in the world.
It was after eleven—and late for Lashmar Mill-House—before the Warings left. Eric waited to fasten the windows, while his mother turned out the lights; they met in his father’s work-room.