The three persons were at tea in what was known as the Long Saloon, a charming room with two great oriel windows, similar to those at Montacute, embellished by innumerable achievements, escutcheons setting forth in stained glass the armorial bearings of the families that had intermarried with the Pomfrets. The walls were panelled in oak palely golden with age. Against these walls stood cabinets of Queen Anne and the Georges filled with English porcelain. There were lovely bits of Chinese lacquer, many chintz-covered sofas and chairs, two well-worn Persian carpets, and tables of all sizes and shapes. Every article looked as if it had stood still for generations. Lady Margot said happily that here was exactly the right setting for her hosts. The room shone with the same soft lustre that gleamed from the silver of the tea equipage two centuries old.
Sir Geoffrey laughed.
“Are you clever, Mary?”
“Here and there, Geoffrey, where my own interests are vitally concerned.”
Lady Margot stuck to her point.
“Is your son interested in art and literature?”
Her listeners failed to detect a slight accent of derision.
“Um! He’s an outdoor man, as I am. I can tell you this. He is interested in persons. He is the most popular fellow in Nether-Applewhite.”
“Really? I look forward to making his acquaintance.”
At this the Squire chuckled.