“We hope you will pay us a long visit,” said Ford in accents that were singularly lacking in spontaneity.
“Thanks,” she said ungraciously. “But you know I’ve got Ceylon friends we could go and stay with—awfully nice people; they live at Bexhill, retired. And I’ve an uncle in London, too.”
Ford visibly repressed a shudder.
“He’s got a big business there—pawnbroking—and his name is Smith,” said Rose very loudly.
Ford’s voice immediately dropped even below its usual subdued pitch.
“Please let us discuss it quietly, if you have no objection. Won’t you sit down?”
With a flouncing movement, she flung herself into the armchair.
“Let us understand one another, Rose. You and I are joint guardians of Jim’s son. As things stand at present, he will in all probability, one of these days, be the owner of this place.”
“I never thought of such a thing! I don’t believe it! Why, surely you’re going to get married and have kids yourself, one of these days?”
“Oh, please, please!”