Martin smiled back and then began at once: "Father, this isn't true about Thurston, is it?"He saw, as he had often done before, that his father had to call himself up from some world of vision before he could realise even his surroundings.Martin he recognised intuitively with the recognition of the spirit, but he seemed to take in the details of the room slowly, one by one, as though blinded by the light.
"Ah--I've been dreaming," he said, still smiling at Martin helplessly and almost timidly."I'm so tired these days--suddenly--Iusen't to be..." He put his hand to his forehead, then laid it on Martin's knee, and the strength and warmth of that seemed suddenly to fill him with vigour.
"You're never tired, are you?" he asked as a child might ask an elder.
"Very seldom," answered Martin, "I say, father, what is all this about Thurston?""Thurston...Why, what's he been doing?""He says he's engaged to Amy." The disgust of the idea made Martin's words, against his will, sharp and angry.
"Does he?...Yes, I remember.He spoke to me about it.""Of course it's simply his infernal cheek..."Mr.Warlock sighed."I don't know, I'm sure.Amy seemed to wish it."Martin felt then more strongly than before the Something that drove him.It said to him: "Now, then...here's a thing for you to make a row about--a big row.And then you can go off with Maggie." But, on the other hand, there was Something that said: "Don't hurt him.
Don't hurt him.You may regret it all your life if..."If what? He didn't know.He was always threatened with regretting things all his life.The blow was always going to fall.And that pleasant very British phrase came back to him, "He would put his foot down"--however--he was very angry--very angry.