"Not only about Lita. But just from the fact of being here--of having all his old life thrust back on him. He seemed utterly unprepared for it--as if he'd really succeeded in not thinking about it at all for years. And suddenly there it was: like the drowning man's vision. A drowning man--that's what he was like." Pauline straightened herself slightly, and Nona saw her brows gather in a faint frown. "What dreadful ideas you have! I thought I'd never seen him looking better; and certainly he didn't take too much wine at dinner." "No; he was careful about that." "And I was careful too. I managed to give a hint to Powder." Her frown relaxed, and she leaned back with another sigh, this time of appeasement. After all, her look seemed to say, she was not going to let herself be unsettled by Nona's mortuary images, now that the whole business was over, and she had every reason to congratulate herself on her own share in it. Nona (but it was her habit!) appeared less sure. She hung back a moment, and then said: "I haven't told you yet. On the way down to dinner..." "What, dear?" "I met him on the upper landing. He asked to see the baby ... that was natural..." Pauline drew her lips in nervously. She had thought she had all the wires in her hands; and here was one--She agreed with an effort: "Perfectly natural." "The baby was asleep, looking red and jolly. He stood over the crib a long time. Luckily it wasn't the old nursery." "Really, Nona! He could hardly expect--" "No; of course not. Then, just as we were going downstairs, he said: 'Funny, how like Jim the child is growing. Reminds me of that old portrait.' And he jerked out at me: 'Could I see it?'" "What--the Sargent?" Nona nodded. "Could I refuse him?" "I suppose that was natural too." "So I took him into father's study. He seemed to remember every step of the way. He stood and looked and looked at the picture. He didn't say anything ... didn't answer when I spoke... I saw that it went through and through him." "Well, Nona, byegones are byegones. But people do bring things upon themselves, sometimes--" "Oh, I know, mother." "Some people might think it peculiar, his rambling about the house like that--his coming here at all, with his ideas of delicacy! But I don't blame him; and I don't want you to," Pauline continued firmly. "After all, it's just as well he came. He may have been a little upset at the moment; but I managed to calm him down; and I certainly proved to him that everything's all right, and that Dexter and I can be trusted to know what's best for Lita." She paused, and then added: "Do you know, I'm rather inclined not to mention his visit to your father--or to Lita. Now it's over, why should they be bothered?"