‘You’d better hang on to her tomorrow then, hadn’t you?’ said Charles Farquhar in his hearty way. ‘If she’s with the wild duck tomorrow she’s for it, isn’t that so, Sir Randolph?’

Sir Randolph looked at his grandson rather seriously.

‘Keep her in tomorrow, Os. Don’t forget.’

The boy, a frailer-looking creature than his more solid brother Marcus, held the duck tighter and nodded.

‘You hear that, duck?’ continued Charles Farquhar facetiously. ‘If you’re out there tomorrow afternoon you’ve had it. If I see you flying over me I can tell you you haven’t a hope. Bang, bang and it will be all over.’ He laughed loudly.

‘If you kill her,’ said Osbert, whiter than ever, ‘I will kill you.’

‘Osbert!’ said Ida and Nanny simultaneously.

‘Oho, you will, will you?’ said Charles Farquhar, apparently much amused. ‘And how do you propose to do that, may I ask?’

‘I will kill you,’ Osbert narrowed his eyes and drew back the corners of his mouth, speaking through his teeth, ‘by Prayer.’

There was loud laughter. Osbert flushed. Nanny shepherded him from the room. The between-maid cleared away the duck’s excreta, Mary cleared away the tea. Rogers quietly closed the door behind them all and opened out the green baize card table. General conversation was resumed.

‘How I wish we had not laughed,’ Olivia Lilburn said quietly to Lionel Stephens.

‘You didn’t.’

‘I didn’t think it was funny.’

‘You think he means to carry out his threat?’

‘Not that. Though if I were God I’d be inclined to grant his prayer.’

‘Oh!’ he remonstrated.

‘No, but you can see he has such strong emotions, and he will have to be educated and taught the ways of the world and made to be on the side of the guns and against the ducks. It seems such a pity.’

‘We all have to learn to school our emotions to some extent.’

‘Of course, but who invents the rules of manly behaviour? Who says it’s the height of heroism to kill? For every hero does there have to be a living sacrifice? I can see you are terribly shocked by my saying that. I am sorry.’

‘I am not shocked so much as shaken. I am shaken because although I did know – I have always known – that you had such fire, I didn’t think you would ever show it, or at least not to me.’

‘I feel I can show it to you because you are a true friend and won’t laugh.’

‘No, I won’t laugh.’

‘We are being very serious. I think that might be breaking one of the rules. I think it is bad form to be serious.’

‘I’m quite sure it is. But no one will guess. The more serious we look the more people will think we are telling each other terrible lies about Aline.’

‘We could do that later. I’m quite good at telling terrible lies about Aline. It’s only that having a son of my own has made me think of other things, and of my own appalling responsibilities. And I am often aware at shooting parties how differently I feel from a man and how, more than that, I really would like to rebel against the world men have made, if I knew how to. I see the beauty of a good shoot of course and the charm of country sports and traditions, but I can’t help feeling the added solemnity the whole thing gets from that sacrificial note, the note of death, of blood. Why do we have to have that, to complete our pleasure?’