'Not a third of what we had last year.' Arthur raised his eyebrows, and behind his father's back he and Pamela exchanged smiles.

The next house showed a couple of elderly men at work pruning roses intended to flower in February and March.
'This is almost my favourite house,' exclaimed Sir Henry.

'Such a wonderful result for so little labour!' He strolled on complacently.
'How long does this take you, Grimes ?' Arthur inquired discreetly of one of the gardeners.
'Oh, a good while, Mr.Arthur--what with the pruning, and the syringing, and the manuring,' said the man addressed, stopping to wipe his brow, for the day was mild.
Arthur's look darkened a little.

He fell into a reverie, while Pamela was conscious at every step of his tall commanding presence, of the Military Cross on his khaki breast, and the pleasant, penetrating eyes under his staff cap.

Arthur, she thought, must be now over thirty.