Nevertheless he shuffled out of everything, unless it were the correspondence with Fontenoy. As to the notion that all the languor could be due merely to an unsatisfied craving for Letty Sewell's society, when it presented itself he still fought with it. The Indian climate might have somehow affected him. An English winter is soon forgotten, and has to be re-learnt like a distasteful lesson. About a week after their arrival at Ferth George was sitting at his solitary breakfast when his mother came floating into the room, preceded by a rattle of bangles, a flutter of streamers, and the barking of little dogs. She held various newly opened letters, and, running up to him, she laid her hands on his shoulders. "Now"--thought George to himself with annoyance, "she is going to be arch!" "Oh! you silly boy!" she said, holding him, with her head on one side. "Who's been cross and nasty to his poor old mammy? Who wants cheering up a bit before he settles down to his horrid work? Who would take his mammy to a nice party at a nice house, if he were prettily asked--eh? who would?" She pinched his cheek before he could escape. "Well, mother, of course you will do what you like," said George, walking off to supply himself with ham. "I shall not leave home again, just yet." Lady Tressady smiled. "Well, anyhow, you can read Aspasia Corfield's letter," she said, holding it out to him. "You know, really, that house isn't bad. They took over the Dryburghs' _chef_, and Aspasia knows how to pick her people." "Aspasia!" The tone of patronising intimacy! George blushed, if his mother did not. Yet he took the letter. He read it, then put it down, and walked to the window to look at a crowd of birds that had been collecting round a plate of food he had just put out upon the snow. "Well, will you go?" said his mother. "If you particularly wish it," he said, after a pause, in an embarrassed voice. Lady Tressady's dimples were in full play as she settled herself into her seat and began to gather a supply of provisions. But as he returned to his place, and she glanced at him, she saw that he was not in a mood to be bantered, and understood that he was not going to let her force his confidence, however shrewdly she might guess at his affairs. So she controlled herself, and began to chatter about the Corfields and their party. He responded, and by the end of breakfast they were on much better terms than they had been for some weeks. That morning also he wrote a cheque for her immediate necessities, which made her--for the time--a happy woman; and she overwhelmed him with grateful tears and embraces, which he did his best to bear. Early in December he and she became the Corfields' guests. They found a large party collected, and Letty Sewell happily established as the spoilt child of the house. At the first touch of her hand, the first glance of her eyes, George's cloud dispersed. "Why did you run away?" George asked her on the first possible occasion.