He walked home in silence beside his father. He was in no mood for the strain of the exacting situation, the astonishment, the implied reproach that lay in front of him. But he was resigned to it. It had to come; there was no loophole.
He made his announcement quite quietly during a pause in the talk just after dinner. And it was received, as he had anticipated, in a stupefied silence.
“What!” said Mr. Whately at last. “Engaged to Muriel Marston!”
“Yes, Muriel Marston, the daughter of my employer, and I’m to become a junior partner in the firm.”
“But----” Mr. Whately paused. He was not equal to the pressure of the situation. He was not perplexed by the ethics of Roland’s action; his critical faculties had only appreciated the first fact, that a plan had been altered, and he was always thrown off his balance by the alteration of any plan. He was accustomed to thinking along grooves; he distrusted sidings. He got no further than the initial “But.” His wife, however, had recovered from the shock and was by now able to face the matter squarely. When she spoke her voice was even.
“Now, please, Roland, we want to know all about this. When did you propose to Miss Marston?”
“During the week-end--on Saturday evening.”
“Yes, yes,” said Roland, a little impatiently. “Didn’t I tell you that I’ve been offered a junior partnership in his business?”
“Of course; I forgot. I’m sorry. This is rather difficult for us. Now, you say----”
But at this point her husband, whose thoughts had by now traveled a certain distance along the new groove, interrupted her.
“But how can you talk about being engaged to this Muriel Marston when you’ve been engaged for nearly three years to April?”
“Hush, dear,” she said. “Roland’s quite right. He’s never been officially engaged to April.”
Roland shivered at the venom that was revealed by the stressing of the word “officially.”
“And how long,” she went on, “have you been in love with Miss Marston?”
“Oh, I don’t know, mother; I can’t tell. Please let me alone.” And there was genuine misery behind the words. “One doesn’t know about a thing like this.”
But Mrs. Whately would not spare him. She shook her head impatiently.
“Don’t be absurd, Roland; you’re behaving like a child. Of course one knows these things. You’ve known Miss Marston for four or five years now. You couldn’t suddenly find yourself in love with her.”