“I have. I’m afraid I’m dreadfully out of practice, though. One gets so little time.”
“We must have some music after dinner to-night. I know Rose is fond of music, though we do not often hear her play.” Lady Aviolet glanced amiably at her daughter-in-law.
“I can play to-night, if you like,” said Rose abruptly, impelled by an unrecognized instinct of self-assertion, born of her own consciousness that she was out of place amongst these people.
“I can play her accompaniments.” She nodded at Diana, not knowing whether or not she was expected to use the girl’s Christian name.
“How nice of you,” said Diana lightly. “I’ve heaps of music and we’re sure to find something you know.”
The conversation drifted on easily enough. Cecil and Miss Wade went away into the garden, and Rose looked after them with longing eyes, wishing that she could go and play with the little boy, and yet staunch to her resolution that “they” should have their own way in all the things that didn’t matter.
She thought that politeness required her to remain at the tea-table, leaning back in an uncomfortable upright chair, but it did not occur to her to simulate any interest in a conversation which bored her profoundly, and she was as nearly as possible unconscious that every now and then she stifled a half-checked yawn with the back of her hand.
“I hear you have some new neighbours at Bolestone, Diana.”
“Yes, Cousin Catherine. The Frederick Ollertons—such nice people.”
“Let me see, who was she?”