Thomas shook hands with an air which accepted and rejected these words in the right measure.
‘Why are people proud of expecting to die soon?’ said Dudley to Mark. ‘I think it is humiliating to have so little life left.’
‘They are triumphant at having made sure of more life than other people. And they don’t really think they will die.’
‘No, of course, they have got into the way of living. I see it is a lifelong habit.’
‘Have we no relations who can enter a room in the usual way?’ said Clement.
‘None in the neighbourhood,’ said his brother.
‘Now, Grandpa, that is naughty talk,’ said Justine, leading Oliver forward by the arm as if no one else would think of the office. ‘Now which chair would you like?’
‘Any one will serve my purpose; I ask but to sit in it.’
‘Dear Grandpa!’ said Justine, keeping her hands on his arms as he sat down, as if she were lowering him into it.
‘That is a fine gown, my dear,’ he said, as he let go the chair and sank back.
‘It is the most fearful thing, Grandpa; I forbid you to look at it. It will be my shame all the evening.’
‘You know why you put it on, I suppose. I should have thought it was intended to catch the eye, as it has caught mine.’
‘I think it is such a nice colour,’ said Blanche. ‘Beautiful,’ said Sarah, shaking her head again.
‘Why, so it is, my dear,’ said Oliver, relaxing his limbs. ‘Your girl looks well in it, and what more would you have?’ ‘But the shape of it, Grandpa!’ said Justine, withdrawing her strictures upon his looking to the extent of disposing herself that he might the better do so. The cut, the hang, the balance, the fit!’
‘Well, I do not see any of those, my dear; I do not know if you are trying to show them to me.’
‘I am trying to show you the lack of them.’
‘Then you do so, child; I see it,’ said Oliver, lifting one leg over the other.
‘Well, if anyone received a snub!’ said Justine, looking about her at the success of her effort.
‘What is the colour?’ said Matty, her easy tone revealing her opinion that enough had been said on the matter. ‘Magenta?’
‘No, dear,’ said Blanche. ‘It is a kind of old rose.’
‘Is it, dear?’ said Matty, contracting her eyes on the dress and looking almost exactly like her sister for the moment. ‘A new sort of old rose then.’ She smiled at her niece, taking her disparagement of the dress at its literal value.
‘Oh, come, Aunt Matty, there is nothing wrong with the colour. It is the one redeeming point.’
‘Yes, dear?’ said Matty, in questioning agreement, her eyes again on the dress.
‘Oh dear, this garment! It is destined to be a bone of contention in addition to its other disadvantages?’
‘I tremble to think about its destiny’, said Clement, ‘as its history up to date is what it is.’
‘Why is magenta an offensive term?’ said Mark. ‘It seems to be.’
‘It is odd how colours seem to owe their names to some quality in them,’ said his aunt.
‘Their names come about in quite a different way.’
‘Now we don’t want a philological lecture,’ said Matty, showing her awareness of this.
‘Magenta can be a beautiful colour,’ said Sarah, in a tone of considerable feeling. ‘I remember a dress I once had of a kind of brocade which we do not see now. Oh, it would have suited you, Mrs Gaveston.’
‘Those old, thick brocades were very becoming,’ said Matty.
‘Aunt Matty does not restrict the application of her words,’ said Aubrey, seeming to speak to himself, as he often did when he adopted adult phrase.
‘I can imagine you looking regal in one of them, Aunt Matty,’ said Justine, in a tone of saying something that was expected.
‘Dinner is ready, ma’am,’ said Jellamy.
‘And not too soon,’ said Clement. ‘I hope that food will be a better subject for our attention than clothes.’
Edgar gave his arm to Sarah and led the way in conventional talk, which he maintained at whatever happened to be the cost to himself. Dudley adapted his step to Matty’s with an exactness which involved his almost standing still, and kept up a flow of conversation at no personal expense at all. Matty was known to prefer Dudley to a son of the house, and her nephews supported her choice. Blanche and her father walked together, as the result of his suggestion that it might be their last opportunity, which was proffered to Thomas as an excuse and duly repudiated and accepted. They were assisted by Justine to link their arms and take their first steps — and indeed there might have been a less perilous association — and checked by her serious hand from a too precipitate advance. Justine herself went with Thomas, placing her free arm in Mark’s.
‘Now I do not require four partners, but I may as well use up one superfluous young man. Follow on, you other two. Aubrey can be the lady.’
‘I place my delicate hand on Clement’s arm and lean on his strength.’
Thomas gave a laugh and Clement shook off the hand and walked on alone.
‘What a really beautiful room, dear!’ said Matty to her sister, with appreciation brought to birth by the lights and wine and the presence of Dudley and Edgar. ‘It is like a little glimpse of home, or if I may not say that, it is like itself and satisfying indeed to my fastidious eye. And my own little room seems to gain, not lose by the comparison. This one seems to show how beauty is everywhere itself. I quite feel that I have taken a lesson from it.’
‘And one which was needed, from what I hear,’ said Mark.
‘Is that how happiness does not depend on surroundings?’ said Aubrey.
Mark and Aubrey often talked aside to each other. Clement would join them when inclined to talk, Justine when inclined to talk aside. Aubrey also talked aside to himself.
‘Naughty boys, making fun of the poor old aunt!’ said Matty, shaking her finger at them without interest in what they said.
‘What was it, Mark?’ said Edgar, with a hint in his tone that his eldest son should speak for the ears of the table.
‘I was agreeing with Aunt Matty, sir.’
‘Yes, yes, we may praise our own home, may we not, when it is as good as this?’ said his aunt.
‘I was doing the same, Father — the same, sir,’ said Aubrey, who had lately followed his brothers in this mode of address.
‘Dear boy!’ said Sarah, moved by the step towards maturity.
Edgar had come as near to reproof as he ever did. His hints were always heeded, and if it was not true that they were followed more than if he had raised his voice or resorted to violence, it was as true as it ever is. To Justine he never hinted a reproof, partly because of her sex and partly because he might have had to hint too much. Edgar did not love his children, though he believed or rather assumed that he did, and meted out kindness and interest in fair measure. He had a concerned affection for his wife, a great love for his brother and less than the usual feeling for himself. Dudley spent his emotion on his brother, and gave any feeling which arose in him to anyone else. Justine believed that she was her father’s darling, and Edgar, viewing the belief with an outsider’s eye, welcomed it, feeling that it ought to be a true one, and made intermittent effort to give it support. Other people accordingly accepted it, with the exception of Dudley and Aubrey, who saw the truth. Clement would have seen it if he had regarded the matter, and Blanche liked the belief and accordingly cherished it.
‘Does Jellamy manage by himself in this room now?’ said Matty to her sister. ‘It seems rather much for one person.’