A sigh lifted her breast as she remembered the necessity for answering that letter.
Lord Charlesbury’s kind, grave eyes looked at her with their interested gaze. She suddenly felt that it would be a relief to tell him of her perplexity.
When they were seated at the small table in the warm, lighted restaurant, she did so.
“Look here, I want to tell you something. I’ve practically made up my mind—at least I had till yesterday—not to go back to Squires at all.”
Charlesbury put up his eyeglass with a quick gesture that seemed to indicate that he was startled, but made no reply.
“You’ve seen me there, me and Ces—you know very well we don’t fit in there,” she said defiantly.
“Forgive me if I say that I think that could be put right easily enough, if you were willing to try,” he said gently. “And I’m sure your boy is happy there.”
Rose winced. “You’ve hit the nail on the head,” she curtly admitted. “That’s just what’s threatening to upset my apple-cart. Ces was happy there, in spite of that silly ass of a Wade, and he was well and strong there. He’s been ill since I’ve had him up here. Not really ill, you know, but he had croup last night and he doesn’t look like the same kid.”
“Poor little chap! I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he’s getting better.”
“The croup is better—at least, unless he gets it again to-night. But I don’t think London suits him like the country.”