‘Please don’t. It would be very inconsiderate.’

‘Inconsiderate?’

‘I should have the burden of your death on my conscience all the rest of my life, shouldn’t I?’

‘But I should be dead, which is worse I suppose.’

‘It might be lovely. You might be in Heaven having a simply marvellous time.’

‘Now you are being very perverse. You know perfectly well that my idea of Heaven is being with you, and that I am having a simply marvellous time now this very minute.’

‘Oh that’s very nicely said. And very nice of you to say it. I’m so sorry to be so grumpy.’

‘Will you tell me what the trouble was, if it wasn’t me?’

He looked down at her face, not wanting to miss the happy expression which he knew a compliment usually induced in it.

She beamed at him, pushing her stray hair underneath her rather bulky hat with a gloved finger.

‘The truth is,’ she said confidingly, ‘that though I love all my family very much, I sometimes feel that my mother doesn’t want to recognize that I am grown-up.’

‘Ah!’

‘I suppose it often happens, but I do find it annoying when I can’t even carry on a conversation with someone without her giving me reproving looks. Of course I say very silly things but then so does everyone really, don’t they? And after all I manage perfectly well when she’s not there. But even my grandmother thinks I laugh too loud.’

‘It’s better than not laughing at all. You should spend more time away from them, staying with your friends.’

‘I do. But even then she sees the hostesses afterwards and asks how I’ve behaved.’

‘But I don’t suppose she spends much time in Vienna.’

‘Vienna?’

‘If you came to stay with me in Hungary, that would perhaps be beyond her sphere?’

‘I doubt it. There’d be some fifth cousin by marriage who’d send her a report on me. But I don’t really mind. There can’t be anything very bad to say, except that I’ve spilt my soup or something. Will you really ask me to stay?’

‘I shall ask my mother to write to you as soon as I go home.’

‘How wonderful. I shall look forward to it tremendously. What sort of thing shall we do?’

‘It will be quite boring. We see no one but relations. My mother doesn’t consider anyone else worth speaking to. The house is always full of cousins and very old aunts.’

‘I can’t speak Hungarian.’

‘Nobody does. We speak French. How is your French?’

‘Très convenable, according to Mademoiselle.’

‘Then you’ll do very well. There’ll be riding, hunting even, if you like – there are some good horses. If you hunt with me no one will be allowed to ride in front of you.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you are my guest. Then there may be some partridge shooting.’

‘Will there be a lot of that, do you think?’ Cicely did not much enjoy shooting parties.

‘Not necessarily. Some times we will drive about and visit other relations. They are all quite boring too, but some of them have beautiful houses and beautiful things in them which I can show you. And I can show you some of our churches and so on. And in the evening there will be musicians and we can dance. The ballroom is quite pretty, all surrounded by Venetian looking-glasses. I think you would like to waltz there.’