They had reached a point where the fields sloped sharply downward. A few hundred yards away, backed by woods, stood the grey mass of stone which proved such a kill-joy of old to the Welsh sportsman during the peasant season. Even now it had a certain air of defiance. The setting sun lit up the waters of the lake. No figures were to be seen moving in the grounds. The place resembled a palace of sleep.
“Well!” said Molly.
“It’s wonderful!”
“Isn’t it? I’m so glad it strikes you like that. I always feel as if I had invented everything round here. It hurts me if people don’t appreciate it.”
They went down the hill.
“By the way,” said Jimmy, “are you acting in these theatricals they are getting up?”
“Yes. Are you the other man they were going to get? That’s why Lord Dreever went up to London, to see if he couldn’t find somebody. The man who was going to play one of the parts had to go back to London on business.”
“Poor brute!” said Jimmy. It seemed to him at that moment that there was only one place in the world where a man might be even reasonably happy. “What sort of part is it? Lord Dreever said I should be wanted to act. What do I do?”
“If you’re Lord Herbert, which is the part they wanted a man for, you talk to me most of the time.”
Jimmy decided that the piece had been well cast.