“Will they? Why?” asked Val, not thinking very much about the matter.
“Firstly, because poor grannie seems so weak and ailing. You know I sent Ellen up to the big house yesterday. She has been twice every week since I could not go myself, and she has made me very sad about grannie. Val, I must go and see her at Christmas time. Poor, dear, old grannie, I am sure she misses me very much!”
Val looked troubled, as he always did at all mention of the separation from Sunstead.
“And then Ellen tells me Lady Wentworth is in mourning for her father, who died last week, I believe. This must make her sad. Altogether, I feel sorry for them!”
Val parted from his sister with that regret that they always felt even at the shortest separation.
“Now, don’t overwork yourself, making plum puddings and roasting turkeys,” he ordered.
“Oh!” Grace said, with a laugh. “My plum puddings were all made weeks ago. Take care of yourself, Val, and, remember, don’t come back without Sacha.”
Valentine was whirled up to London, deep in thought. He was thinking more on his sister’s account than his own. He must try some means of settling this stupid business with Mark, if only for their old grandmother’s sake.
The old Lady Wentworth was, perhaps, of not much count now in the world, but Grace had always been devoted to her mother’s mother, and Val resolved he must open some way by which his sister could resume her ministrations to the crippled old lady. But for this Val felt he would rather that his sister never came into contact with Christina Wentworth.
“They are so wide apart in every sense, they could never assimilate,” he said to himself. “Now, if it had been the mother, or even that bad-tempered, dark-haired little sister, Grace could have got on very differently.”