Sir Thomas came soon into sight round a corner of the hedge. He was as lean as his lady was stout, and his eye was as vague as hers was keen. He accepted Robin philosophically, but seemed to be exercised over his roses. “I’ve a mind to move them,” he said. “They don’t thrive. Do you understand roses, sir?”
“Alack, sir, my education’s been neglected.”
“A pity,” Sir Thomas said gravely.
His wife roused herself to inform him of my lord’s invitation. “Do we go, Sir Thomas?”
Sir Thomas considered it. “He might understand roses,” he said hopefully.
It was not until later, after dinner, that Prudence had a word alone with her brother. She stepped out with him into the dim, scented garden, and walked with him beside a bed of lavender, her silken skirts hushing gently as she went. In the lamp-lit room they had left my lady said: — “That’s a very pretty pair, Tony. I don’t deny it. You must know you’ve to embrace the brother if you would embrace the sister.”
“My dear Beatrice, do you suppose I did not know it? It’s a devoted couple. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.”
“I shall have to come to Barham for your wedding,” decided my lady. “I’ve an ambition to see the old gentleman.”
“He will fatigue you sadly, my dear.”
“A mad business from start to finish,” said my lady. “I’ll see it to the end.”