This idea was oppressive to Nick—that of the rejoicing almost as much as of the watching. He had made his concession, but, with a certain impulse to divert his mother from following up her advantage, he broke out: "Julia's a tremendously effective woman."
"Of course she is!" answered Lady Agnes, knowingly.
"Her charming appearance is half the battle," said Nick, explaining a little coldly what he meant. But he felt that his coldness was an inadequate protection to him when he heard his mother observe, with something of the same sapience—
"A woman is always effective when she likes a person."
It discomposed him to be described as a person liked, and by a woman; and he asked abruptly: "When are you going away?"
"The first moment that's civil—to-morrow morning. You'll stay here, I hope."
"Stay? What shall I stay for?"
"Why, you might stay to thank her."
"I have everything to do."
"I thought everything was done," said Lady Agnes.
"Well, that's why," her son replied, not very lucidly. "I want to do other things—quite other things. I should like to take the next train." And Nick looked at his watch.
"When there are people coming to dinner to meet you?"
"They'll meet you—that's better."
"I'm sorry any one is coming," Lady Agnes said, in a tone unencouraging to a deviation from the intensity of things. "I wish we were alone—just as a family. It would please Julia to-day to feel that we are one. Do stay with her to-morrow."
