“As the cat,” said Lady Linden, “wouldn’t go to Mahomed—”
“The mountain, you mean!” Hugh said.
“Oh, I don’t know. I knew it was a cat, a mountain or a coffin that one usually associates with Mahomed. However, as you didn’t come, I came—to see what on earth you were doing, shutting yourself up here in Hurst Dormer.”
“Renovations.”
“They don’t agree with you. I expect it’s the drains. You’re doing something to the drains, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I believe—”
“Then go and get a suitcase packed, and come back with us to Cornbridge.”
He would not hear of it at first; but Lady Linden had made up her mind, and she was a masterful woman.
“You’ll come?”
“Really, I think I had better—not. You see—”