'The kindest in the world. It's just her way.'
Rose nodded understanding; then she stood up, tall and slim in her
severe clothes, her high boots. The gilt clock on the mantelpiece said
it was only five o'clock. There were five more hours before she could
reasonably go to bed.
'Where did you ride to-day, dear?' Sophia asked.
'Over the bridge.' And to dissipate some of her boredom, she added, 'I
met Francis Sales. He thinks of going abroad.'
There was an immediate confusion of little exclamations and a chatter.
'Going abroad? Why?'
'To learn farming.'
'Oh, dear,' Sophia sighed, 'and we thought--we hoped--'
'She must do as she likes,' Caroline said, and Rose smiled. 'The
Malletts don't care for marrying. Look at us, free as the air and with
plenty of amusing memories. In this world nobody gets more than that,
and we have been saved much trouble. Don't marry, my dear Rose.'
'You're assuming a good deal,' Rose said.
'But Rose is not like us,' Sophia protested. 'We have each other, but
we shall die before she does and leave her lonely. She ought to marry,
Caroline; we ought to have more parties. We are not doing our duty.'
'Parties! No!' Rose said. 'We have enough of them. If you threaten me
with more I shall go into a convent.'
Caroline laughed, and Sophia sighed again. 'That would be beautiful,'
she said.
'Sophia, how dare you?'
Sophia persisted mildly: 'So romantic--a young girl giving up all for
God;' and Caroline gave the ribald laugh on which she prided herself--
a shocking sound.
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