"Much," said Adrian.
These young people were still in that ecstatic mood in which, could they have had the whole planet to themselves, it would never have occurred to them that it was lonely. Their eyes met as they answered, and if at that moment the wind-swept avenue had been transformed into sunlit boughs of blossoming orange, they might not have remarked any accession of warmth and sweetness.
The old woman who was in charge recognised Barbara, and made no difficulty about allowing them to wander through the rooms at their leisure. In fact, she was only too glad not to leave her handful of fire on such a chilly errand.
"Is it true," Mrs. Scarlett asked eagerly, "that Mr. Croft is going to pull the house down?"
"So they tell me, ma'am. There's to be a sale here, come Midsummer, and after that they say the old Place comes down. There's nobody to take it now poor Mr. Hayes is gone."
Adrian's glance quickened at the mention of a sale, and then he recalled his expressed intention never to come to Mitchelhurst again. "Perhaps he'll find a tenant before then," he said. "You've got somebody here to-day, haven't you?"
The woman started in sudden remembrance. "Oh, there's a lady," she said, "I most forgot her. She said she was one of the old family, and used to live here. My orders are to go round with 'em when they come to look at the house, but the lady didn't want nobody, she said, she knew her way, and she walked right off.
"I hope it ain't nothing wrong, but she's been gone some time."
"I should think it was quite right," said Scarlett. "Come, Barbara."
They went from room to room. All were silent, empty, and cold, with shutters partly unclosed, letting in slanting gleams of grey light. The painted eyes of the portraits on the wall looked askance at them as they stood gazing about. All the little modern additions which Mr. Hayes had made to the furniture for comfort's sake had been taken away, and the Rothwells had come into possession of their own again.