would like it at all, my Lady.'
`I don't see why not,' said Connie.
She went indoors to Clifford's study, where the old brass kettle was
simmering on the tray.
`Am I late, Clifford?' she said, putting down the few flowers and
taking up the tea-caddy, as she stood before the tray in her hat and scarf.
`I'm sorry! Why didn't you let Mrs Bolton make the tea?'
`I didn't think of it,' he said ironically. `I don't quite see her
presiding at the tea-table.'
`Oh, there's nothing sacrosanct about a silver tea-pot,' said Connie.
He glanced up at her curiously.
`What did you do all afternoon?' he said.
`Walked and sat in a sheltered place. Do you know there are still
berries on the big holly-tree?'
She took off her scarf, but not her hat, and sat down to make tea. The
toast would certainly be leathery. She put the tea-cosy over the tea-pot,
and rose to get a little glass for her violets. The poor flowers hung over,
limp on their stalks.
`They'll revive again!' she said, putting them before him in their
glass for him to smell.
`Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,' he quoted.
`I don't see a bit of connexion with the actual violets,' she said.
`The Elizabethans are rather upholstered.'
She poured him his tea.
`Do you think there is a second key to that little hut not far from
John's Well, where the pheasants are reared?' she said.
`There may be. Why?'
`I happened to find it today---and I'd never seen it before. I think
it's a darling place. I could sit there sometimes, couldn't I?'
`Was Mellors there?'
`Yes! That's how I found it: his hammering. He didn't seem to like my
intruding at all. In fact he was almost rude when I asked about a second
key.'
`What did he say?'
`Oh, nothing: just his manner; and he said he knew nothing about keys.'
`There may be one in Father's study. Betts knows them all, they're all
there. I'll get him to look.'
`Oh do!' she said.
`So Mellors was almost rude?'
`Oh, nothing, really! But I don't think he wanted me to have the
freedom of the castle, quite.'
`I don't suppose he did.'
`Still, I don't see why he should mind. It's not his home, after all!
It's not his private abode. I don't see why I shouldn't sit there if I want
to.'
`Quite!' said Clifford. `He thinks too much of himself, that man.'
`Do you think he does?'
`Oh, decidedly! He thinks he's something exceptional. You know he had a
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