XXXIII
The pleasant years were slipping away, and Mrs. Thompson was just as busy as she had ever been. She had long ago ceased to speak of retiring, and now she did not even think of it. The success of Bence's had continued to swell larger and larger; its trade grew steadily and surely; its financial position was so strong that nothing could shake it.
Prentice and Archibald Bence often advised the proprietress to turn herself into a company, and she was more or less disposed to adopt their suggestion. Some day or other she might do it. But it would be a big job—the promotion of a company on the grandest scale, with enormous capital involved, wants careful consideration. Perhaps she was a little inclined to shrink the preliminary labours of the scheme—and in any event the flotation could not bring her more leisure, because she would certainly be obliged to remain at Bence's as managing director.
In these years Jane had made her bow at the Court of St. James's, and had experienced the excitement of a London season; but as yet her guardians had found her no suitable sweetheart. They were difficult to please; and she herself appeared to be in no hurry. However, Jane at twenty-two was so good-looking, so vivaciously amiable, so altogether charming, that Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Kenion knew well that they would not be able to put off the heavy day much longer. The right man, though still unseen, must have drawn very near by now.
On Thursday afternoons, weather permitting, Mrs. Thompson liked to drive in the carriage; and it was always an especial treat when the social engagements of her ladies allowed them to accompany her. As the big bay horses trotted along the smooth roads she leaned back in her seat with luxurious contentment and beamed at Jane, at Enid, at all the world.
"Now is not this much nicer—the air, the quiet enjoyment, the gentle motion—than if we were being whirled past everything in a motor-car?"
"Yes, granny, it is very nice."
"I fear that you would have preferred the car, Enid?"