“Well then if mother’s adorable why give her up? This I don’t mind admitting she did, the day I speak of, let me see that she feels you’ve done; but without suggesting either--not a scrap, please believe--that I should make you any sort of scene about it. Of course in the first place she knows perfectly that anything like a scene would be no use. You couldn’t make out even if you wanted,” Nanda went on, “that THIS is one. She won’t hear us--will she?--smashing the furniture. I didn’t think for a while that I could do anything at all, and I worried myself with that idea half to death. Then suddenly it came to me that I could do just what I’m doing now. You said a while ago that we must never be--you and I--anything but frank and natural. That’s what I said to myself also--why not? Here I am for you therefore as natural as a cold in your head. I just ask you--I even press you. It’s because, as she said, you’ve practically ceased coming. Of course I know everything changes. It’s the law--what is it?--‘the great law’ of something or other. All sorts of things happen--things come to an end. She has more or less--by his marriage--lost Mitchy. I don’t want her to lose everything. Do stick to her. What I really wanted to say to you--to bring it straight out--is that I don’t believe you thoroughly know how awfully she likes you. I hope my saying such a thing doesn’t affect you as ‘immodest.’ One never knows--but I don’t much care if it does. I suppose it WOULD be immodest if I were to say that I verily believe she’s in love with you. Not, for that matter, that father would mind--he wouldn’t mind, as he says, a tuppenny rap. So”--she extraordinarily kept it up--“you’re welcome to any good the information may have for you: though that, I dare say, does sound hideous. No matter--if I produce any effect on you. That’s the only thing I want. When I think of her downstairs there so often nowadays practically alone I feel as if I could scarcely bear it. She’s so fearfully young.” This time at least her speech, while she went from point to point, completely hushed him, though after a full glimpse of the direction it was taking he ceased to meet her eyes and only sat staring hard at the pattern of the rug. Even when at last he spoke it was without looking up. “You’re indeed, as she herself used to say, the modern daughter! It takes that type to wish to make a career for her parents.”