She had not realised that the Great War had created a different world from the one she had always known, and that women had earned their freedom as individuals by sharing the burden of the war side by side with men. Nor had Roger infused any fresh ideas into her mind on his return from serving in the Army. He had volunteered immediately war broke out, his sense of duty and loyalty to his country being as sturdy as his affection for every foot of her good brown earth he had inherited. But he was not an impressionable man, and when peace finally permitted him to return to his ancestral acres, he settled down again quite happily into the old routine at Trenby Hall.
So it was hardly surprising that Lady Gertrude had remained unchanged, expecting and requiring that the world should still run smoothly on--without even a side-slip!--in the same familiar groove as that to which she had always been accustomed. This being so, it was quite clear to her that Nan would require a considerable amount of tutelage before she was fit to be Roger's wife. And she was equally prepared to give it.
In some inexplicable manner her attitude of mind conveyed itself to Nan, and the latter was rebelliously conscious of the older woman's efforts to dominate her. It came as an inexpressible relief when at last their tête-à-tête was interrupted.
Through the closed door Nan could hear Roger's voice. He was evidently engaged in cheerful conversation with someone in the hall outside--a woman, from the light trill of laughter which came in response to some remark of his--and a moment later the door opened and Nan could see his head and shoulders towering above those of the woman who preceded him into the room.
For the first time since the beginning of their interview Nan heard Lady Gertrude's voice soften to a more human note. Turning to Nan she continued, still in the same affectionate tone of voice:
"This is my niece, Isobel Carson--though she is really more like a daughter to me."
"So it looks as though we shall be sisters!" put in the newcomer lightly. "Really"--with a quick, bird-like glance, that included everyone in the room--"our relationships will get rather mixed up, won't they?"
She held out a rather claw-like little hand for Nan to shake, and the unexpectedly tense and energetic grip of it was somewhat surprising. She was a small, dark creature with bright, restless brown eyes set in a somewhat sallow face--its sallowness the result of several husband-hunting years spent in India, where her father had held a post in the Indian Civil Service.