When they met at breakfast the next morning the atmosphere had hardened a little. Beatrix was not so affectionate to him in her manner as she had been; it was plain that she was not thinking of him much, except in his connection with her lover; and as the love she had shown him the night before had softened him towards the whole question, so now the absence of its signs hardened him. Of course her love for him was nothing in comparison with this new love of hers! He was a fool to have let it influence him. If he had been weak enough to let her go to bed thinking that he would make no objection to her eventual engagement, and only formalities stood in the way, it would be all the harder for her when she knew the truth. "Have you had a letter from Rene?" was the first question she asked him when she had kissed him good-morning, with a perfunctory kiss that meant she was not in one of those affectionate moods which he found it so impossible to resist. "Yes," he said shortly. "I'm going down to the Bank this morning, B. I'll see him there. I've told William to ask him to come on to the City when he comes here." "Can't I see him first, Dad," she asked, "when he comes here?" "No, darling. Look here, B, I didn't want to bother you last night. I was too pleased to see you again. But I don't want you to marry Lassigny. I don't like the idea of it at all." She looked up at him with eyes wide open. "Why not, Dad?" she asked. "I hate the idea of your marrying a Frenchman. I've never thought of such a thing. I wouldn't have asked him down to Abington if I had." She looked down on her plate, and then looked up again. "You're not going to tell him we can't be married, are you?" she asked. "I don't know what I'm going to tell him. I want to hear what he has to say first. That's only fair." She seemed puzzled more than distressed. "I thought you liked him," she said. "I thought you only didn't like our getting engaged before he had spoken to you. You did like him at Abington, Dad; and he was a friend of Caroline's before he was a friend of mine. You didn't mind that. Why don't you want me to marry him? I love him awfully; and he loves me." He was sorry he had said so much. He hadn't meant to say anything before his interview with Lassigny. But the idea that by a miracle Lassigny might prove himself worthy of her had faded; and her almost indifference towards him had made it not painful, as it would have been the night before, to throw a shadow over her expectations. "You're very young," he said. "In any case I couldn't let you marry yet." "I was afraid you'd say that," she said quietly. "Rene said you wouldn't. If you let us marry at all, there would be no reason why we shouldn't be married quite soon. How long should we have to wait, Dad?"