"You are very kind, Lady Letitia," he said. "I fear that I am inclined to encroach upon your hospitality."
She picked a rose and held it to her lips for a moment.
"We must amuse Aunt Caroline," she observed languidly. "It is many years since she imposed herself as a visitor here. We dine at a quarter past eight. This is the gate."
He passed through it and turned to make his farewells. Her left hand was resting upon the iron railing, her right supported her parasol. She nodded to him a little curtly.
"You promised," he reminded her, "that some day you would come over and help me about the garden."
"Did I?" she answered. "Well, remind me sometime, won't you?"
"Why not now?" he persisted.
She shook her head.
"I have to go and consult with Mrs. Foulds as to where to put all our visitors. Charlie Grantham is coming with aunt, I think, and we have so many rooms closed up. Don't fall into the moat. There's a bridge just to the left."
She turned away, and David watched her for several moments before he swung round. He was conscious of a sudden and entirely purposeless feeling of anger, almost of fury. From the higher slopes of the park he turned and looked once more towards Mandeleys. Letitia had evidently forgotten her household duties. She had thrown herself back in her chair and was once more apparently engrossed in her book.