"He wants me to settle the date of our wedding, that's all." The clicking ceased abruptly.
"And when is it to be ?" Isobel's attention seemed entirely concentrated upon a dropped stitch.
"Some time in April.

It will have to depend a little on Mrs.Seymour's plans.

She wants me to be married from her house, just as Penelope was." Lady Gertrude was busily engaged upon the making of a utilitarian flannel petticoat for one of her protegees in the village.

She anchored her needle carefully in the material before she laid it aside.
"Do you mean from her house in town ?" she asked.
"Why, yes, I suppose so." Nan looked faintly puzzled.
"Then I hope you will re-arrange matters." Although Lady Gertrude's manner was colder and infinitely more precise, yet the short speech held the same arrogance as Roger's "Then you'll marry me in April"-- the kind of arrogance which calmly assumes that any opposition is out of the question.
"It would be the greatest disappointment to the tenantry," she continued, "if they were unable to witness the marriage of my son--as they would have done, of course, if he'd married someone of the district.

So I hope"-- conclusively--"that Mrs.Seymour will arrange for your wedding to take place from Mallow Court." She picked up the flannel petticoat and recommenced work upon it again as though the matter were settled, supremely oblivious of the fact that she had succeeded, as usual, in rousing every rebellious feeling her future daughter-in-law possessed.
Nan lay long awake that night.