“He is—indeed he is!” said Mrs. Cardew. “Feeling for 41 him, therefore, as you do, dear, you may perhaps be more inclined to listen to an alternative which he proposed to me.”
“And what is that, my dear?”
“Well, he thinks we might occupy our house in London during the school terms of each year––”
“During the school terms of each year!” echoed Mr. Cardew in a voice of dismay. “But I hate living in London.”
“Yes, dearest; but you see we must think of our girls. If you and I took the children to town they could have governesses and masters—the very best—and would thus be sufficiently educated to take their place in society.”
Mr. Cardew was quite silent for a full minute after his wife had made this suggestion. To tell the truth, she had done a somewhat extraordinary thing. Amongst this great lady’s many rich possessions was a splendid mansion in Grosvenor Street; but, as she hated what is called London society, it had long been let to different tenants, for nothing would induce the Cardews to leave their delightful home, with its fresh air and country pursuits, for the dingy old house in town. They knew that when the girls came out—a far-distant date as yet—they would have to occupy the house in Grosvenor Street for the season; but Mrs. Cardew’s suggestion that they should go there almost immediately for the sake of their daughters’ education was more annoying to her husband than he could possibly endure.
“I consider the rector very officious,” he said. “Nothing would induce me to live in town.”
“I thought you would feel like that, dear. I was certain of it.”
“You surely would not wish it yourself, Sylvia?”
“I should detest it beyond words,” she replied.