Caroline was disturbed at the bitterness with which he spoke, and did not quite understand it. He had made no objections to Lassigny as a friend of hers, nor to her having asked him to Abington at Whitsuntide. He seemed to have liked him himself. What was it that he was so upset about? Was it with Beatrix? "Do you think she ought not to have accepted him without asking you first, darling?" she said. "I suppose she does ask your permission." "No, she doesn't. She takes it for granted. She's engaged to him, and hopes I shall be as happy about it as she is. He's going to write to me. But there's no letter from him yet." "I think she ought to have asked your permission. But I suppose when that sort of thing comes to you suddenly----" "_He_ ought certainly to have asked my permission," he interrupted her. "Oh, but darling! You hardly expect that in these days, do you? He's seen her everywhere; he's been invited here. It would be enough, wouldn't it?--if he writes to you at once. Francis didn't ask you before he asked me; and you didn't mind." "Francis is an Englishman. This fellow's a Frenchman. Things aren't done in that way in France." 'This fellow!' She didn't understand his obvious hostility. Did he know anything against Lassigny. If so, surely he must have found it out quite lately. "Why do you object to the idea so much, darling? I think he's nice." "Oh, nice!" he echoed. "I told you the other day that I should hate the idea of one of you marrying a foreigner." He had told her that, and she had replied that Lassigny hardly seemed like a foreigner. It was no good saying it again. She wanted to soothe him, and to help him if she could. "What shall you do?" she asked. "I'm going to wire to her to come home at once--send a wire now." He turned aside on to the grass, and then cantered down to the gate. Caroline would have wished to discuss it further before he took the step he had announced, but, although she was on terms of such equality with him, she had never yet questioned a decision of his when he had announced one. His authority, so loosely exercised over his children, was yet paramount. They rode into the village without exchanging more words, and he dismounted at the Post-Office, while she held his horse. Worthing came out of the Estate Office, which was nearly opposite, to speak to her. She found it difficult to chat to him about nothing, and to keep a bright face, but he relieved her of much of the difficulty, for he never had any himself in finding words to pass the time with. "And how's Beatrix getting on?" he asked. "Heard from her since she's been up on the moors?" "Father had a letter from her this morning," she said. "He wants her home." This, at least, would prepare the way for the unexpected appearance of Beatrix. "Oh, we all want her home," he said.