Читать книгу Mrs. Gailey онлайн

39 страница из 78

"You see," said Lesley, solemn again, "I don't believe in luxury. One must have tables and chairs and a bed, of course, but when a sofa, like Mother's Knole, costs as much as a house, and housing's so difficult, it seems wrong that a worker's family shouldn't have it."

"The sofa?"

"No, the house that it's instead of. If the contents of this house could be sold there'd be enough money to buy a dozen houses—ifthey had been built, of course. That's the trouble. That's why I've turned Waters Farm into a settlement for families working on the land. They can't any of them get anywhere else to live. It's terrible. I wanted Mother to let me have this house as well. She'd keep her own rooms, of course, and we could put up at least three more families in what was left. But she won't hear of it."

For once Rosamund found herself in agreement with Mrs. Winrow. She walked over to the window and looked out. Beyond the garden, with its bright borders and dark trees, the valley of the Doleham River spread southward, and already wore the faint enlargements of the evening light. The thick dazzle of the high sun had been strained into clearness; shadows hung clear from the woods and the fields showed their color and pattern again. Far away at the valley's end the sky no longer swallowed the hills.