'What?' I stammered. 'You don't mean to say--you and mother--?'
He nodded.
'Yes, I do, lad. Yesterday she promised as she'd marry my unworthy
self. It's been coming along for some time. But I don't expect she's
given you any hint in her letters. In fact, I know she hasn't. It would
have been rather difficult, wouldn't it? She couldn't well have
written, "My dear Philip, an old friend, Mr Nixon, is falling in love
with me and I believe I'm falling in love with him. One of these days
he'll be proposing to me." She couldn't have written like that, could
she?'