“Our acquaintance started in the perambulator,” Nina nodded. “We tried to poke each other’s eyes out. Metaphorically, we still try. That’s the worst of being brought up as brother and sister. One never troubles to be polite, and horrible fights ensue. How do you like the Halt?”

Elizabeth had not known that Stephen’s friendship with Nina was of so long a date. It was rather unpleasant to think that he had known Nina years and years before he had met his wife. Only, of course, it was silly to feel like that about it.

“I think Halt is lovely,” she said. “The garden fascinates me especially. It’s so unexpected and rambling.”

“And so delightfully disorderly,” Nina added. “I love a garden without rhyme or reason. Our own is perfectly soul-killing. My father’s an expert gardener and botanist, and he loves symmetrical beds and colour schemes. The result is like a mathematician’s idea of heaven. This is the sort of garden you can love. You wouldn’t feel a criminal either if you picked flowers from it.”

“Can’t you in yours?” Elizabeth asked, smiling.

“Oh, dear me, no! Everything’s too rare and precious. Besides you can’t pick a flower with a five-syllabled Latin name, can you? Aren’t we talking rot? Do tell me, has anyone called yet?”

“You’re the first,” Elizabeth answered.

“Am I really? How nice! By the way, I didn’t see you in church on Sunday, ma’am!”

“N-no!” Elizabeth frowned slightly. “Stephen wouldn’t go, and I was too shy to go alone.”

“How base of Stephen! He’s got a down on churchgoing, hasn’t he? I remember he once came to see Mummy and inveighed against convention and—and—oh, yes, pusillanimity!”

“I don’t quite see that,” Elizabeth confessed.

“Nor did we till he explained. With truly great magnanimity he informed us that he had no objection to people going to church if they really wanted to, but what he did object to—most rampantly—was people going to church for fear of what their neighbours would say if they didn’t. That was the pusillanimity. He loathes and abhors the Tomlinsons—you’ll meet them soon—because they daren’t play tennis on Sunday for fear the Drurys, next door, should hear the balls. Personally, I sympathise with the Tomlinsons. I always wilt when a disapproving eye is bent upon me.”

“But does Stephen never go to church?” Elizabeth asked.