“I thought that was what she wanted me to say,” explained Cecil piteously.
“Oh, good Lord!” said Rose.
A sort of blank terror invaded her spirit, as the total lack of any apprehension of truth now and then betrayed by Cecil confronted her again.
For a moment she could not speak.
“Come and unwrap the potatoes, Cecil,” called Diana gaily, arriving on foot with Miss Wade, and he ran off quite happily.
The men came in soon afterwards, and Diana asked suitable questions, and made suitable comments on their replies.
Rose remained silent until they were all seated at the long table that had been put up in the patch of ground surrounding the cottage. Even in the perturbation of her spirit, she had noticed with relief and pleasure that Charlesbury had chosen the seat next to hers. Cecil was on her other side, interested in his Irish stew.
“I hope you are coming out with us presently,” said Lord Charlesbury. “We’re shooting over the home farm.”
“It’s all on our way back. I’d like to walk there. But I won’t watch the poor things being killed—I think it’s cruel.”
“It does seem a barbaric form of amusement, doesn’t it?” He smiled at her gently, and changed the subject, on which Rose had been prepared to uphold her views vehemently. She talked to him freely throughout the meal and looked forward as a matter of course to walking with him after it was over.