“I can’t remember that she said anything. Oh yes, she did! She said Elizabeth hadn’t got a mind of her own! That’s rather true, Stephen.”

“It’s not. She’s shy and reserved.”

“I expect it’s the aunt,” Mrs. Ramsay said placably. “She won’t let Elizabeth have a mind of her own; she wants her to have her mind. Stephen, that’s rather clever. Now I know where you get your brains from.”

He laughed, but reluctantly and like a sulky boy.

“Because Elizabeth doesn’t smoke and doesn’t always say exactly what she thinks, whether it’s rude or not, Cynthia condemns her. That’s just like Cynthia. Beastly intolerance.”

“Yes, but we Ramsays are always dreadfully outspoken, dear.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Lots. You see, Stephen, you’ve always been used to terribly frank people, and you’re the same yourself.”

He rose and went to the fire, one hand on the mantelpiece and the other deep in his trouser-pocket. He spoke, looking down into the fire, and not at his mother.

“What are you driving at, mater?”

“Only that you’ve never been interested in a girl as you’re interested in Elizabeth, dear hoy.”

“No.” He began to play with one of the china ornaments near his hand.

“And you sent me to see what I thought of her. Didn’t you?”

“I suppose— Yes. You know, this is rather—”

“Dreadfully. Well, I like Elizabeth, but I don’t know why I’d like her if I had to.”

He raised his head, and Mrs. Ramsay saw that his eyes were crinkling at the corners. That hinted smile was reflected on her lips at once.

“Wouldn’t you feel the same about any girl, mater?”

“Yes, I expect I should. Of course, darling, you’ll do as you please, and I shall be nice about it— Don’t you think I should be a charming mother-in-law?—only don’t rush into anything with your eyes shut. That would hurt me terribly.”

“I’m not a bit likely to do that, mater.”

“Yes, you are, Stephen. You’re so like your father.”

The smile grew.

“Well, if he rushed into marriage with you with his eyes shut I can’t do better than to follow his example and shut my eyes.”

“My dear, what a beautiful compliment! But Elizabeth isn’t like me, you know.”

He looked wistfully down at her.

“I thought you’d get on with her so well, mater. She is like you in some ways—at least, I think so.”

Mrs. Ramsay went to him and put her hand up to stroke his cheek.

“Poor boy! I expect I shall get on with her splendidly when I see her away from her aunt. Anyway, don’t let’s worry! Only I do so wish it had been Nina Trelawney.”