‘I might go to Oakdale. It’s a two-year finishing college for ladies. Unless . . .’

‘Unless what?’

Unless I get married, she meant, but she said: ‘I don’t know. Unless something else happens.’

‘Such as what?’

‘I’d like to see England. My father went to London and met the Prince of Wales. What about you? Any plans?’

‘It was always assumed that I would take over Father’s bank, but now there is no bank. Mother has a little money from her family, and I manage that, but otherwise I’m kind of a loose wheel.’

‘You should raise horses,’ Daisy said. ‘I know you’d be good at it.’ She was a good rider and had won prizes when younger. She pictured herself and Charlie in the park on matching greys, with two children on ponies following behind. The vision gave her a warm glow.

‘I love horses,’ Charlie said.

‘So do I! I want to breed racehorses.’ Daisy did not have to feign this enthusiasm. It was her dream to raise a string of champions. She saw racehorse owners as the ultimate international elite.

‘Thoroughbreds cost a lot of money,’ Charlie said lugubriously.

Daisy had plenty. If Charlie married her, he would never have to worry about money again. She naturally did not say so, but she guessed that Charlie was thinking it, and she let the thought hang unspoken in the air for as long as possible.

Eventually Charlie said: ‘Did your father really have those two union organizers beaten up?’

‘What a strange idea!’ Daisy did not know whether Lev Peshkov had done any such thing, but in truth it would not have surprised her.

‘The men who came from New York to take over the strike,’ Charlie persisted. ‘They were hospitalized. The Sentinel says they quarrelled with local union leaders, but everyone thinks your father was responsible.’

‘I never talk about politics,’ Daisy said gaily. ‘When did you get your first dog?’

Charlie began a long reminiscence. Daisy considered what to do next. I’ve got him here, she thought, and I’ve put him at ease; now I have to get him aroused. But stroking the dog suggestively had unnerved him. What they needed was some casual physical contact.

‘What should I do next with Rusty?’ she asked when Charlie had finished his story.

‘Teach him to walk to heel,’ Charlie said promptly.

‘How do you do that?’

‘Do you have some dog biscuits?’

‘Sure.’ The kitchen windows were open, and Daisy raised her voice so that the maid could hear her. ‘Ella, would you kindly bring me that box of Milk-bones?’

Charlie broke up one of the biscuits, then took the dog on his lap. He held a piece of biscuit in his closed fist, letting Rusty sniff it, then opened his hand and allowed the dog to eat the morsel. He took another piece, making sure the dog knew he had it. Then he stood up and put the dog at his feet. Rusty kept an alert gaze on Charlie’s closed fist. ‘Walk to heel!’ Charlie said, and walked a few steps.