“Perhaps he’ll be a soldier-man as his father has been,” said Rosamund.

“Do you wish it?”

She looked at him steadily for a moment.  Then she said: 

“Yes, if it helps him as I think it has helped you.  I expect when men go to fight for their country they go, perhaps without knowing it, to fight just for themselves.”

“I believe everything we do for others, without any thought of ourselves, we do for ourselves,” he said, very seriously.

“Altruism!  But then I ought to live in London for you, and you in Welsley for me.”

They both laughed.  Nothing had been absolutely decided; and yet it seemed as if through that laughter a decision had been reached about everything really important.

CHAPTER IX

A dogcart from Harrington’s had been ordered to be “round” the next day at noon.  Dion had decided against a long day’s shooting on Robin’s account.  He must not tire the little chap.  In truth it would be impossible to take the shooting seriously, with Robin there all the time, clinging on to Jane and having to be looked after.

“It’s going to be Robin’s day,” Dion said the next morning.  “When are you going to tell him?”

“Directly after breakfast.  By the way, Dion,”—­she spoke carelessly, and was opening a letter while she spoke,—­“I’m not coming.”

“Oh, but you must!”

“No; I’ll stay quietly here.  I have lots of things to do.”

“But Robin’s first day as a sportsman!”

“He isn’t going to shoot,” she said with a mother’s smile.

“Why won’t you come?  You’ve got some very special reason.”

“Perhaps I have, but I’m not going to tell it.  Women aren’t wanted everywhere.  Sometimes a couple of men like to be alone.”

“Robin’s a man now?”

“Yes, a little man.  I do hope the gaiters will fit him.  I haven’t dared to try them on yet.  And I’ve got him the dearest little whip you ever saw.”

“Jane will have to look to her paces.  I’m sorry you’re not coming, Rose.”

But he did not try to persuade her.  He believed that she had a very sweet reason behind her abstention.  She had had Robin all to herself for many months; perhaps she thought the father ought to have his turn now, perhaps to-day she was handing over her little son to his father for the education which always comes from a man.  Her sudden unselfishness—­Dion believed it was that—­touched him to the heart.  But it made him long to do something, many things, for her.

“I’m determined that you and Welsley shan’t part from each other forever,” he said.  “We’ll hit on some compromise.  This house is on our hands, anyhow, till the spring.”

“Perhaps we could sublet it,” said Rosamund, trying to speak with brisk cheerfulness.

“We’ll talk it over again to-night.”

“And now for Robin’s gaiters!”