Burton took his place beside her almost in silence, and
they glided off. She looked at him curiously.
"Meeting go off all right?" she asked, a little sharply.
"Top hole," Mr. Burton replied.
"Then what are you so glum about?" she demanded, suspiciously. "You've
got nothing to worry about that I can see."
"Nothing at all," Mr. Burton admitted.
"Very good report of Alfred came second post," Mrs. Burton continued.
"They say he'll be fit to enter Harrow next year. And an invitation to
dine, too, with Lady Goldstein. We're getting on, Alfred. The only
thing now is that country house. I wish we could find something to suit
us."
"If we keep on looking," Burton remarked, "we are bound to come across
something sooner or later. If not, I must build."
"I'm all for building," Mrs. Burton declared. "I don't care for mouldy
old ruins, with ivy and damp places upon the walls. I like something
fine and spick and span and handsome, with a tower to it, and a long
straight drive that you can see down to the road; plenty of stone work
about the windows, and good square rooms. As for the garden, well, let
that come. We can plant a lot of small trees about, and lay down a
lawn. I don't care about other folks' leavings in houses, and a lot of
trees around a place always did put me off.
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