He shivered unconsciously; the appealing pose of fidelity was cynical enough, without her becoming inartistic by overdoing it.
“I gave her a very fair idea of what was in the wind,” he said. “She’s very fond of you, Ivy. There’d be no difficulty in that quarter.”
“You haven’t seen father yet? When are you going to?”
For a moment Eric was so much disgusted to find himself participating in this game of make-believe that he did not realize she was asking him a question and waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know,” he answered at length. “I don’t know whether I shall see him. There are certain rather considerable difficulties... Ivy, d’you want me to go to him?”
As he spoke, he was conscious that his tone had hardened; there was a challenge and a warning in it. He waited to see whether she would go on lying; the hint of menace must shew her that she was underestimating his knowledge.
A slight frown, a slighter shrug were her only signs of emotion.
“I never did want you to go,” she answered. “My father is nothing in my life now. I should actually have asked you not to if you hadn’t frightened me by saying that he might make trouble because I wasn’t of age.”
Eric nodded and prepared a question which would leave no room for evasion.
“You’ve thought it over carefully, I hope?,” he said. “You still want to marry me?”