“For a little while! It’s all we can do. We can only do our bit. I feel every man of my family has done his bit here, since we’ve had the place. One may go against convention, but one must keep up tradition.” Again there was a pause.

“What tradition?” asked Connie.

“The tradition of England! of this!”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“That’s why having a son helps; one is only a link in a chain,” he said.

Connie was not keen on chains, but she said nothing. She was thinking of the curious impersonality of his desire for a son.

“I’m sorry we can’t have a son,” she said.

He looked at her steadily, with his full, pale-blue eyes.