is fine when it's hot, but not in this climate.'
James Gardiner raked back a lock of wet hair which had fallen forward across his forehead. Then he produced a linen handkerchief and dried his hands on it.
'I got drenched in a five-yard dash from the car to the house.'
'You're going to get soaked going home. Why don't you stay the night, Summer?' Emily suggested.
'No, I must get back. I have things to do. My cape is completely waterproof.'
'You can't cycle in this, Miss Roberts. You 'll be half blinded by the rain. I'll drive you home,' James Gardiner offered, taking up the traditional English male stance on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire. However, as the room also had radiators, he only blocked the firelight, not the heat.
'Thank you, but it isn't necessary. I often cycle home in the rain. The trees along the drive will shelter me from the worst of it.'
'You live near the schoolhouse, don't you? That's half a mile from the gates, on a major road. Visibility is very poor tonight, and you could be knocked down. I'll drive you—when I've had my reviver. Wait a moment, Conway'—this as the butler was about to leave the room. 'Bring me a cold beef sandwich with my Scotch, would you, please? If there's no beef, chicken or Cheddar will do.'
'Certainly, m'Lord.'
With Emily holding the door for him, the old man carried the laden tray from the room.
Summer had glimpsed a flash of irritation on the younger man's face which she attributed to his dislike of the butler's repeated use of his unwanted title. Perhaps he held strong views which allied him more with the Left Wing element of the country's political system.
'So what have you two been doing with yourselves today?' he asked, as his niece returned to the fireside.
She curled up in a corner of the large shabby slipcovered sofa which faced the hearth, as it had in his time and before.
Having described their activities, she said, 'What have you been doing, James? Did you stay at the flat? I've never been there.'
'The flat is in Belgravia, near Eaton Square. I stayed at the Savoy which is nearer the City where the people I had to see have their offices.'
'Did you go to the theatre last night?'
'No, I dined with a friend at his club.'
'Daddy belonged to the Turf Club and Boodle's, but he mostly used Boodle's. So did Granpa.'
'A bastion of undeserved privilege and reactionary minds,' was her uncle's dry comment. 'My friend is a scientist. He belongs to the Athenaeum.'
The reference to undeserved privilege seemed to support Summer's thought that he might be a staunch Left Winger. If he were, it would increase her dislike of him.
She had an instinctive fear of people with extremist views which they almost invariably sought to impose on everyone around them. Kindness and tolerance were the qualities she admired above all others.
The Lancaster family's motto was Nemo me impune lacessit. No one attacks me with impunity. James Gardiner had told her that his personal motto was: He travels fastest who travels alone. Looking back to her formative years, Summer knew that if her parents had a credo, it had been: Live and let live. Their friends had been drawn from all walks of life, many different religious sects and more than one racial background. Her father would have thought it as foolish to condemn a man for being privileged as for being poor.
She was seated in a high-backed basket chair with cushions of the same faded, rose-patterned chintz as the cover on the sofa. On the opposite side of the hearth was a deep wide-armed club chair, also slipcovered. Presently James Gardiner lowered his tall frame into it, stretching out long legs which made her uneasily conscious of the width of her thighs, made more noticeable by being in a sitting position.
She could never sit with her knees crossed. Except when she was alone with Emily, she tried to remember to sit like the Queen when she was being photographed; with her lower legs slanted to one side and crossed at the
James Gardiner raked back a lock of wet hair which had fallen forward across his forehead. Then he produced a linen handkerchief and dried his hands on it.
'I got drenched in a five-yard dash from the car to the house.'
'You're going to get soaked going home. Why don't you stay the night, Summer?' Emily suggested.
'No, I must get back. I have things to do. My cape is completely waterproof.'
'You can't cycle in this, Miss Roberts. You 'll be half blinded by the rain. I'll drive you home,' James Gardiner offered, taking up the traditional English male stance on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire. However, as the room also had radiators, he only blocked the firelight, not the heat.
'Thank you, but it isn't necessary. I often cycle home in the rain. The trees along the drive will shelter me from the worst of it.'
'You live near the schoolhouse, don't you? That's half a mile from the gates, on a major road. Visibility is very poor tonight, and you could be knocked down. I'll drive you—when I've had my reviver. Wait a moment, Conway'—this as the butler was about to leave the room. 'Bring me a cold beef sandwich with my Scotch, would you, please? If there's no beef, chicken or Cheddar will do.'
'Certainly, m'Lord.'
With Emily holding the door for him, the old man carried the laden tray from the room.
Summer had glimpsed a flash of irritation on the younger man's face which she attributed to his dislike of the butler's repeated use of his unwanted title. Perhaps he held strong views which allied him more with the Left Wing element of the country's political system.
'So what have you two been doing with yourselves today?' he asked, as his niece returned to the fireside.
She curled up in a corner of the large shabby slipcovered sofa which faced the hearth, as it had in his time and before.
Having described their activities, she said, 'What have you been doing, James? Did you stay at the flat? I've never been there.'
'The flat is in Belgravia, near Eaton Square. I stayed at the Savoy which is nearer the City where the people I had to see have their offices.'
'Did you go to the theatre last night?'
'No, I dined with a friend at his club.'
'Daddy belonged to the Turf Club and Boodle's, but he mostly used Boodle's. So did Granpa.'
'A bastion of undeserved privilege and reactionary minds,' was her uncle's dry comment. 'My friend is a scientist. He belongs to the Athenaeum.'
The reference to undeserved privilege seemed to support Summer's thought that he might be a staunch Left Winger. If he were, it would increase her dislike of him.
She had an instinctive fear of people with extremist views which they almost invariably sought to impose on everyone around them. Kindness and tolerance were the qualities she admired above all others.
The Lancaster family's motto was Nemo me impune lacessit. No one attacks me with impunity. James Gardiner had told her that his personal motto was: He travels fastest who travels alone. Looking back to her formative years, Summer knew that if her parents had a credo, it had been: Live and let live. Their friends had been drawn from all walks of life, many different religious sects and more than one racial background. Her father would have thought it as foolish to condemn a man for being privileged as for being poor.
She was seated in a high-backed basket chair with cushions of the same faded, rose-patterned chintz as the cover on the sofa. On the opposite side of the hearth was a deep wide-armed club chair, also slipcovered. Presently James Gardiner lowered his tall frame into it, stretching out long legs which made her uneasily conscious of the width of her thighs, made more noticeable by being in a sitting position.
She could never sit with her knees crossed. Except when she was alone with Emily, she tried to remember to sit like the Queen when she was being photographed; with her lower legs slanted to one side and crossed at the
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