When he had gone Lady Susan and Ann exchanged glances.

"I've been telling him he drives Tony on too tight a rein," said the
former, answering the unspoken question in the girl's eyes.

"It's absurd of him," declared Ann indignantly. "He tries to keep him tied
to his apron-strings as if he were a child. And he's not! He's a man. He's
been through that beastly war. Probably he knows heaps more about life--the
real things of life--than Sir Philip himself, who wants to dictate
everything he may or may not do."

"Probably he does. And that's just the trouble. When you get a terribly
experienced younger generation and a hide-bound older one there are liable
to be fireworks."

"All I can say is that if Sir Philip won't let him have a little more
freedom, he'll drive Tony just the way he doesn't want him to go."

Lady Susan's keen glance scrutinised the girl's troubled face.

"You can't help it, you know," she remarked briefly.

"That's just it," answered Ann uncertainly. "I sometimes wonder if I
could--ought to--" She broke off, leaving her sentence unfinished.

Lady Susan, apparently not noticing her embarrassment, gathered up her
belongings preparatory to leaving the room.

"Marrying to reform a rake never pays," she said in level tones. "It's like
rolling a stone uphill."