“Not exactly tired,” she said lightly; “but perhaps—well, I do feel that I have done a good morning’s work, and I am glad, because when this is finished, I must be going on.”
“Going on! What for?” he exclaimed so abruptly that this time she looked at him in surprise. But she did not see, and laughed.
“Why, to work, of course. Thornbury is a fascinating old place.”
“You like it?” he interrupted eagerly.
“Of course I do.” She felt she owed him a tribute. “I can’t tell you how much I have enjoyed what I have done here, but—one comes to an end. You don’t want me to cut down all your trees, do you?”
With that his head whirled.
“Sit down,” he said, pointing to a fallen trunk on which she had already experimented, and Claudia, still unsuspecting, seated herself, pushing back her hair with both hands—a trick she had.
“I suppose I am rather tired, after all, and certainly hot,” she allowed, drawing a deep breath; “but what delightful work it is!”
“You’ve really enjoyed it?”
“Of course I have, and you have let me alone, which people can’t understand is what one wants. I am going next to a place called Huntingdon Hall. Friends of Captain Fenwick have got it, and he says it requires putting to rights terribly, and they haven’t an idea how to set about it. I have heard from Lady Wilmot and have sent her my terms. I expect it will be quite straight sailing. Captain Fenwick says so.”