"Just so," he said again.
"Why shouldn't I go and see her when I like?" said Robert, after a pause.
"She is another man's wife," said his father, "and it is a censorious world."
Robert Vyner looked down at the cloth. "If she were not, I suppose there would be some other objection?" he said gloomily.
Mr. Vyner laid his cigar on the side of a plate and drew himself up. "My boy," he said impressively, "I don't think I deserve that. Both your mother and myself would—ha—always put your happiness before our own private inclinations."
He picked up his cigar again and placing it in his mouth looked the personification of injured fatherhood.
"Do you mean," said Robert, slowly, "do you mean that if she were single you would be willing for me to marry her?"
"It is no good discussing that," said Mr. Vyner with an air of great consideration.
"But would you?" persisted his son.
Mr. Vyner was a very truthful man as a rule, but there had been instances—he added another.