“Travelling is a good thing,” said Rose. “Opens one’s eyes a bit, I mean. But it costs money.”
“That’s my affair,” said Sir Thomas very curtly indeed.
His wife added more gently: “We should like our grandson to see something of the world, my dear, before he settles down to the estate. It seems fairly certain now, humanly speaking, that Cecil will come after Ford at Squires.”
She sighed gently.
“Cecil is growing into a very dear boy, but still—one can’t help feeling for poor Ford’s disappointment at not having a son of his own. I must say, I should never have thought it of Diana.”
“Well, she can’t help it, can she?”
“Give me that ball of wool, my dear, if you can reach it without disturbing yourself. Thank you.”
Rose understood that the subject of Mrs. Ford Aviolet’s ability or inability to continue the direct line of succession to Squires was not one to be pursued.
She had become very much more amenable to such hints with the passing of time.
Cecil himself was pleased and eager at the prospect of going to Cambridge. His new-born enthusiasm reminded Rose of his childish days, and she thought thankfully that the original Cecil had returned to her.