Rose received the reply in silence. She was far too grateful for Charlesbury’s evident liking and sympathy for herself to retort with her habitual assertion that generalities which might apply to other children did not apply to Cecil. Moreover, her shrewdness had quite well perceived that Lord Charlesbury had avoided committing himself to any promise of interference between herself and Ford. After all, he was Ford’s friend, Rose reflected, liking him none the less on that account, although still marvelling somewhat that it should be so.
She was sorry when they came into the home farm and her walk with Charlesbury was over.
The men, spread out in a thin line, began to walk up the steep slope of the first field, Diana Grierson-Amberly walking beside Ford, looking very trim and efficient in her short, brown tweed coat and skirt and close-fitting hat.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to walk with them, Rose?” her mother-in-law asked her, from the pony-carriage in the lane.
“Quite sure, thank you,” Rose said, shuddering, and as a bird rose suddenly and the first shot went off, she uttered a loud and startling scream.
Ford’s head was turned, for a searing moment, in her direction.
“Get in quickly,” said Lady Aviolet.
Her tone was one of forbearance.
“Where’s Ces?”
“He is walking home with Miss Wade. I hope you don’t think it will be too far for him?”