Diana did not try to elucidate this cryptic remark.
She talked about gardening again.
“Are you very fond of the country?” Rose said to her at last.
“I like it better than London, I think, really.”
It seemed as though superlatives were for ever outside the range of Miss Grierson-Amberly’s vocabulary.
“London is great fun, of course, though I always think it’s rather a pity to go there just when the country is nicest—May and June, you know. But, of course, in the winter, there’s the hunting. Do you hunt, Mrs. Aviolet?”
“Oh, Lord, no!”
“I suppose your little boy will want to start. All the Aviolets ride so well.”
“Ces can ride,” said Rose proudly. “He took to it quite naturally and wasn’t a bit afraid.”
“Oh, good. Shall you let him hunt this winter?”