‘Yes.’
‘Are they part of your permanent family, those two?’
‘More or less. People just accrue to Mums. Are you placated now—Queen of Wynchcombe Friars?’
She laid gloved finger-tips on his knee.
‘I’m trying to be. I vowed a vow to be heavenly good this time, to make up for....’
His hand closed on hers.
‘That’s over and done with,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry—even about Mother. But it seemed only fair. I’ll take you to her straight—’
‘I’d prefer half an hour first with her son—not in a motor on the open road! Darling, give me time to feel more at home.’
His eyes sought hers. ‘I’m agreeable. We’ll stop at the gate and go up through the wood. I can fetch the car afterwards. No superfluous attendants these days!’
On a cushion of moss in the cool of the pine-wood, they recaptured the atmosphere of Scotland and the little cloud of estrangement melted away. Mark, who had keenly felt the momentary jar, was the more relieved.