"Well, I don't know yet."
"Oh, but of course you are. They'll all be fearfully annoyed if you don't, especially Muriel——"
"Muriel! Why, what did she say?"
"Nothing particular as far as I remember, but she seemed frightfully keen. She says you're the only one of my friends she's any use for. She finds them too stuck up—middle-aged at twenty she calls them. So you'll have to come."
"I suppose I shall."
"Of course you will. Sit down and write a note this minute, so that there's no chance of your thinking better."
When Roland returned home that night his mother made no reference to the scene at the breakfast table. They spoke at dinner of indifferent things, politics and personalities; but there was a brooding atmosphere of disquiet. Not until nearly bedtime did Ronald announce his intention of going down to Hogstead. His mother's reply expressed neither reproach nor disappointment.
"Yes, dear," she said; "well, I hope you'll enjoy yourself."
And just because her voice was even and unchallenging, Roland felt that he had to give some explanation.
"You see, mother, Mr Marston is, after all, my boss, and these visits—well, they're rather a royal command. They'd be a bit annoyed if I didn't go."