Geoffrey had certainly come through a period of alienation from her, which had shown itself in subterranean rebelliousness, and surface rudeness, but he had not been proof against her two weapons: the deadly use of personal sorrow, and a skilful trick of light ridicule. She had seldom been angry with any of the children; it had been enough to induce into her face an expression of pain, into her voice a deep note of suffering, as she said, "Lavinia, dear," or "Hugh, dear" as the case might be, "I'm sure you don't realise how you've wounded me, but we won't talk of it any more; have it your own way." Hugh and Lavinia desperately conscious of having estranged a mother so beneficent that she would withhold her power and suffer silently, almost invariably gave in immediately for the pure pleasure of sunning themselves once again in her favour. With Geoffrey during what she called "his difficult years," it was otherwise. Sentiment did not move him, but he could not stand up to her gentle, unerring sarcasm, her faculty of being always in the right, and smiling at him as he found himself put in the wrong over some point on which he was convinced he had justice on his side. There was one occasion on which Geoffrey appealed to his father, but Rodney's reply was final: "Your mother's wishes must be considered, Geoffrey; I could not go against them and I can't imagine that you would care to." That ended the matter. Geoffrey recognised that his mother had absolute authority over the household, and as he matured he gradually grew to recognise too that after all, even if she were inexorable and unassailable, still, life went smoothly, and so long as her sway was unquestioned the family atmosphere was an entirely happy one. He came near to understanding her attitude the year he left school and was about to go up to the University. It had always been an understood thing that on leaving Oxford, Geoffrey should join his father in the engineering works founded originally by his great-grandfather, and carried on by his great-uncle Hugh. A few months before his first term began Hugh Greene died suddenly and Rodney Greene asked his son to enter the firm at once. This was a great delight to Edith. "My dear boy," she said, "I can't tell you how happy I am that you'll be at home with me now for a few years. I know it's a disappointment to you, but it is a pleasure to your mother." "Didn't you want me to go up to Oxford, then?" Geoffrey asked. "Of course I did in one way, but now I feel I'll have three extra years of you, and then later on when you marry, as I expect you will, I shall still have Lavinia and Hugh, but now while they are both away at school I'd have been very lonely." "I never really thought of that." "Of course you didn't," Edith patted his hand. "One's children never do, you know, and mothers learn to be put on one side without any fuss."