As Rosamund looked in, her step-mother and Radmore both stopped speaking abruptly, and so after a doubtful moment, she withdrew her head, and shut the door behind her.

“Tell me about George,” he said, without looking at her.

“I think Betty would like to tell you,” she answered slowly:  “Ask her about him some time when you’re alone together.”

“Where is she now?” he asked abruptly.

“In the kitchen I think—­but she won’t be long.”

Jack, looking ruffled and uneasy, very unlike his quiet, cool self, burst into the room.  “I can’t think where that old shabby green gardening book has gone, Janet.  Do you know where it is?”

“You mean ’Gardening for Ladies’?”

“Yes.”

“What on earth d’you want it for?”

“For Mrs. Crofton.  Her garden’s been awfully neglected.”

“I’ll find it presently.  I think it’s in my bedroom.”

Again the door shut, and Janet turned to Radmore:  “Your friend has made a conquest of Jack!” She spoke with a touch of rather studied unconcern, for she had been a little taken aback last evening when Timmy had told her casually of his own and his godfather’s call at The Trellis House.

“My friend?” Radmore repeated uncertainly.

“I mean Mrs. Crofton.  The coming of a new person to live in Beechfield is still quite an event, Godfrey.”

“I don’t think she’ll make much difference to Beechfield,” again he spoke with a touch of hesitation.  “To tell you the truth, Janet, I rather wonder that she decided to live in the country at all.  I should have thought that she would far prefer London, and all that London stands for.  But I’m afraid that she’s got very little money, and, of course, the country is cheaper than town, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.  But Mrs. Crofton can’t be poor.  I know she paid a premium for the lease of The Trellis House.”

“That’s odd.”  Radmore spoke in an off-hand manner, but Janet, watching him, thought he felt a little awkward.  He went on:—­“I know that Colonel Crofton was hard up.  He told me so, quite frankly, the last time I saw him.  But of course she may have had money of her own.”

Janet looked at him rather hard.  A disagreeable suspicion had entered her mind.  She wondered whether there was anything like an “understanding” between the man she was talking to and the tenant of The Trellis House.  If so, she wished with all her heart that Godfrey Radmore had kept away.  Why stir up embers they had all thought were dead, if he was going to marry this very pretty but, to her mind, second-rate little woman, as soon as a decent time had elapsed?

“What are your plans for the future?” she asked.  “Are you going to settle down, or are you going to travel a bit?” ("After all, he won’t be able to marry Mrs. Crofton for at least another six months,” she said to herself.)

“Oh, I mean to settle down.”  His answer was quick, decisive, final.