"I didn't ask. I'm going to write to Aunt Sydney about it first.
Oh, Lady Conant said something at lunch about their having bought
some land from some Lashmars a few years ago. I found it was at
the beginning of last century."
"What did you say?"
"I said, 'Really, how interesting!' Like that. I'm not going to
push myself forward. I've been hearing about Mr. Sangres's
efforts in that direction. And you? I couldn't see you behind the
flowers. Was it very deep water, dear?"
George mopped a brow already browned by outdoor exposures.
"Oh no--dead easy," he answered. "I've bought Friars Pardon to
prevent Sir Walter's birds straying."
A cock pheasant scuttered through the dry leaves and exploded
almost under their feet. Sophie jumped.
"That's one of 'em," said George calmly.
"Well, your nerves are better, at any rate," said she. "Did you
tell 'em you'd bought the thing to play with?"
"No. That was where my nerve broke down. I only made one bad
break--I think. I said I couldn't see why hiring land to men to
farm wasn't as much a business proposition as anything else.
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