Sir James hesitated a moment; and as he waited heard Margaret’s voice with a thrill of passion in it.
“I cannot listen to that, mother. It is wicked to say such things.”
The two turned instantly, passed along the path and came round the corner.
Margaret was standing with one hand on the little table, half-turned to go. Her eyes were alight with indignation, and her lips trembled. Her mother sat on the other side, her silver-handled stick beside her, and her hands folded serenely together.
Sir James looked from one to the other; and there fell a silence.
“Are you coming with us, Margaret?” he said.
The girl still hesitated a moment, glancing at her mother, and then stepped out of the summer-house. Chris saw that bitter smile writhe and die on the elder woman’s face, but she said nothing.
Margaret burst out presently when they had crossed the moat and were coming up to the long grey-towered house.
“I cannot bear such talk, father,” she said, with her eyes bright with angry tears, “she was saying such things about Rusper, and how idle we all were there, and how foolish.”
“You must not mind it, my darling. Your mother does not—does not understand.”