Surely you would not wish at my age that I should be deprived of the comfort of the society of an only child, especially now that your mother has left us ?" "Certainly not, father," answered Morris, softening, as was his fashion at the thought of his dead mother.
Then came a pause, and he hoped that the conversation was at end; a vain hope, as it proved.
"My real object in troubling you, Morris," continued his father, presently, "was very different to the unnecessary discussions into which we have drifted." His son looked up, but said nothing.

Again he knew what was coming, and it was worse than anything that had gone before.
"This place seems very solitary with the two of us living in its great rooms.

I, who am getting an old fellow, and you a student and a recluse--no, don't deny it, for nowadays I can barely persuade you to attend even the Bench or a lawn-tennis party.

Well, fortunately, we have power to add to our numbers; or at least you have.

I wish you would marry, Morris." His son turned sharply, and answered: "Thank you, father, but I have no fancy that way." "Now, there's Jane Rose, or that handsome Eliza Layard," went on the Colonel, taking no notice.