"Kendrew," said Mr. Vanborough, "when you have had enough of domestic
sentiment, suppose you take a glass of wine?"

The words were spoken with undisguised contempt of tone and manner.
Mrs. Vanborough's color rose. She waited, and controlled the momentary
irritation. When she spoke to her husband it was evidently with a wish
to soothe and conciliate him.

"I am afraid, my dear, you are not well this evening?"

"I shall be better when those children have done clattering with their
knives and forks."

The girls were peeling fruit. The younger one went on. The elder
stopped, and looked at her mother. Mrs. Vanborough beckoned to Blanche
to come to her, and pointed toward the French window opening to the
floor.

"Would you like to eat your fruit in the garden, Blanche?"

"Yes," said Blanche, "if Anne will go with me."

Anne rose at once, and the two girls went away together into the garden,
hand in hand. On their departure Mr. Kendrew wisely started a new
subject. He referred to the letting of the house.

"The loss of the garden will be a sad loss to those two young ladies,"
he said. "It really seems to be a pity that you should be giving up this
pretty place."