"Well, make the most of your holiday. You've earned it."
It was high praise. In this one simple sentence the old fellow, hard, undemonstrative, more than a bit "Lancashire," expressed the utmost approval of which he was capable. Understanding what it meant, Roger glowed with appreciation, yet he contented himself with a bare "Thanks," because anything more would have caused his father acute embarrassment.
Esther, who had been in the room, now withdrew in quest of more flowers. When she was out of earshot the invalid spoke, with a slight movement of the head in her direction.
"Nice girl, that," he said laconically.
For an instant his son's eyes met his.
"I'm inclined to share your opinion," the younger man agreed with conviction. After a moment's hesitation he strode quickly across the room and re-entered the dressing-room.
"Miss Rowe!" he called.
She was in the bathroom beyond, washing her hands free of flower-stains. She looked up in some surprise to find the son of the house beside her.
"What time do you have free?" he demanded abruptly.
"Oh, an hour or so in the afternoon. I usually go out for a walk."