“No,” said Rose baldly, unable to think of any form of phraseology that should soften the unpleasant admission. She felt instinctively that Charlesbury would think Cecil’s lack a regrettable one.
“I daresay it’ll come later, or more probably football absorbs all his energies, unless he hasn’t any to spare for lessons. Hugh is far too one-idea’d. I hope the lads have made friends?”
It struck Rose, as she heard the question, that Cecil had no particular friends amongst his school-fellows, and the thought roused again the never deeply dormant anxiety that lay always in her mind.
She made no answer, because she could not think of anything to say, but before the silence had become embarrassing to her, Lord Charlesbury said:
“What about yourself, Mrs. Aviolet? I’m delighted to hear from Ford that there’s every chance of meeting you at Squires in the holidays.”
“Oh, yes, they always want Ces, and I shall be there part of the time, anyway. But I’m really by way of looking out for some sort of a job myself up here.”
“A job?”
“I haven’t got any money, except what Jim’s people allow me, and I’ve had to come to an arrangement with my uncle here, but I’d like to do something besides cleaning the silver in the shop,” said Rose.
“You are, actually, living here?”
“Oh, yes.”