‘Very well then, we shall sit down, but you are not to hurry us. If I catch anyone gobbling their food I shall be very upset and I shall blame it all on you.’

‘No question of gobbling. Plenty of time. Quarter-past two, I told Glass.’

‘He is a terrible disciplinarian, my husband. He ought to have been in the Prussian Army. Aline my dear, sit beside him and distract him for goodness’ sake.’

Aline had been looking out of the window. She had meant to be cold to Charles Farqhuar – he seemed to her to be in a tiresomely jovial, boyish mood – and at the same time to remind him, by presenting him with a view of her profile, which was famous, of who – even (in the sense that she was a phenomenon) what – it was that he was treating so lightly and with such scant respect. It was Grecian, her profile; the line of forehead and straight fine nose was like a statue’s; only her chin, according to Sir Randolph, was too long.

‘Gilbert was telling me,’ he said to her, ‘that Harry Stamp last night was talking of letting Corston. Were you there when that conversation was going on?’

‘No, but he did say something to me to the same effect. I can’t remember why he said he wanted to do it.’

‘Economy, I suppose. That’s why most people do it. Doesn’t seem the right thing to do to me. Seems a bit rat-like.’

‘He looks more like a ratter than a rat,’ said Aline. ‘One of those little ratting dogs you know. A terrier or something. Jack Russells, aren’t they? He seems more like a Jack Russell terrier than a rat.’

Lionel, following Minnie’s indication that he should sit next to Olivia who was on Sir Randolph’s right, joined in the conversation as he sat down.

‘If he can recoup a bit that way, isn’t it a sensible thing to do?’

‘These people who take houses,’ said Sir Randolph. ‘They don’t care twopence for the places. They don’t take an interest. They just enjoy themselves. Why not? That’s what they’ve taken the place for – it doesn’t mean anything to them. It’s not their house, their land, their village, their tenants, estate workers, servants. What do they care? But these are hard times for all these people. The agricultural depression’s getting worse all the time. Nothing will induce the politicians to bring in protective tariffs, the only thing that might save us; we’ve just got to sit it out, retrench and sit it out. Letting your house and allowing your land to go to pot is not the right way to deal with it.’

‘Is it really so bad?’ asked Olivia. ‘The countryside looks so beautiful and the people so happy.’

‘They’re having a hard time. We hear a lot these days about factory workers and conditions in slums. No one bothers about rural poverty – we deal with it locally of course as best we can but when there’s no money in land there’s no money for charity. No one cares about country people. All the attention goes to the towns.’