"Does he say why?"
"He doesn't say anything but that."
"When did you expect him?"
"I don't know. Not for ages. I never can remember about dates. But I thought he liked it down there. And your father said he'd arranged—"
"Arranged what?" Nona interrupted.
Lita seemed to become aware of her again, and turned on her a smooth inaccessible face. "I don't know: arranged with the bank, I suppose."
"To keep him there?"
"To let him have a good long holiday. You all thought he needed it so awfully, didn't you?"
Nona stood motionless, staring out of the window. She saw her father drive up in the Buick. The rain had diminished to a silver drizzle shot with bursts of sun, and through the open window she heard him call: "It's going to clear after all. We'd better start."
Lita went out of the door, humming a tune.