“My intentions have remained what they were,” Christian said. He did not look at anybody or change his expression.
“That is impossible, I should think. Were you waiting for Mother’s death—?”
“I had that amount of consideration, yes. You seem to think, Thomas, that you have a monopoly of all the tact and feeling in the world—”
“I don’t know what justifies you in making remarks like that. And, moreover, I must admire the extent of your consideration. On the day after Mother’s death, you propose to display your lack of filial feeling by—”
“Only because the subject came up. But the point is that now Mother cannot be affected by any step I may take—no more to-day than she would be a year from now. Good Lord, Thomas, Mother couldn’t have any actual right—but I saw it from her point of view, and had consideration for that, as long as she lived. She was an old woman, a woman of a past generation, with different views about life—”
“I can only say that I concur with her absolutely in this particular view.”
“I cannot be bothered about that.”
“But you will be bothered about it, my dear sir.”
Christian looked at him.
“No,” he shouted. “I won’t! I can’t do it. Suppose I tell you I can’t? I must know what I have to do, mustn’t I? I am a grown man—”