“This Major Winton is a man of breeding, isn’t he?”

“Rather!” And, stopping before her, as if he read her thoughts, he added:  “You think she’s not good enough for me?  She’s good enough for anyone on earth.  And she’s the proudest woman I’ve ever met.  If you’re bothering as to what to do about her—­don’t!  She won’t want anything of anybody—­I can tell you that.  She won’t accept any crumbs.”

“That’s lucky!” hovered on Lady Summerhay’s lips; but, gazing at her son, she became aware that she stood on the brink of a downfall in his heart.  Then the bitterness of her disappointment rising up again, she said coldly: 

“Are you going to live together openly?”

“Yes; if she will.”

“You don’t know yet?”

“I shall—­soon.”

Lady Summerhay got up, and the book on dreams slipped off her lap with a thump.  She went to the fireplace, and stood there looking at her son.  He had altered.  His merry look was gone; his face was strange to her.  She remembered it like that, once in the park at Widrington, when he lost his temper with a pony and came galloping past her, sitting back, his curly hair stivered up like a little demon’s.  And she said sadly: 

“You can hardly expect me to like it for you, Bryan, even if she is what you say.  And isn’t there some story about—­”

“My dear mother, the more there is against her, the more I shall love her—­that’s obvious.”

Lady Summerhay sighed again.

“What is this man going to do?  I heard him play once.”

“I don’t know.  Nothing, I dare say.  Morally and legally, he’s out of court.  I only wish to God he would bring a case, and I could marry her; but Gyp says he won’t.”

Lady Summerhay murmured: 

“Gyp?  Is that her name?” And a sudden wish, almost a longing, not a friendly one, to see this woman seized her.  “Will you bring her to see me?  I’m alone here till Wednesday.”

“I’ll ask her, but I don’t think she’ll come.”  He turned his head away.  “Mother, she’s wonderful!”

An unhappy smile twisted Lady Summerhay’s lips.  No doubt!  Aphrodite herself had visited her boy.  Aphrodite!  And—­afterward?  She asked desolately: 

“Does Major Winton know?”

“Yes.”

“What does he say to it?”

“Say?  What can anyone say?  From your point of view, or his, it’s rotten, of course.  But in her position, anything’s rotten.”

At that encouraging word, the flood-gates gave way in Lady Summerhay, and she poured forth a stream of words.

“Oh, my dear, can’t you pull up?  I’ve seen so many of these affairs go wrong.  It really is not for nothing that law and conventions are what they are—­believe me!  Really, Bryan, experience does show that the pressure’s too great.  It’s only once in a way—­very exceptional people, very exceptional circumstances.  You mayn’t think now it’ll hamper you,