‘But I haven’t seen him at all,’ she said.
‘So I gathered from Gillie,’ said Lady Pomfret, ‘and I took the liberty, Susan, of asking him to come and fetch me this afternoon, so that you may meet. I would like you to be friends. Where is Alice, by the way?’
‘In her studio, I think,’ said her mother.
‘I should like to see her work,’ said Lady Pomfret. ‘I never drew myself, but my mother-in-law had a remarkable talent for water-colour drawings. You must have seen some of her sketches at Casa Strelsa, the year you were there.’
Mrs. Barton remembered well the industrious and lifeless yet faintly distinguished sketches with which the late Lady Pomfret had hung every room in the Casa Strelsa, and said so, though not exactly in those words. It used to surprise her that Lady Pomfret, who had a
