How it opens
Riversley Grange lay in a green lap of the west country, rich, quiet, ruled by one old man.
The Squire was your grandfather, and owned the valley as far as a horse could walk in a morning.
The SquireBoy, you have your mother's eyes and your father's tongue. I pray God the first outlasts the second.
Choose
Ask, as you have been taught not to, about your father.
Say nothing and study the Squire's face for the soft places.
Tell him you mean to be a farmer and stay at Riversley for ever.