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It had been a claylike other days at the office. On the way back, Mr Reave thought about his wife and the girls who were always. at him to make the whole thing over to his son Harold, to (dismiss/fire/retire/retreat) , and to spend his time enjoying himself. Enjoying himself! Sitting at home, conscious all the while that his life's work was slipping away...

"Why will you be so unreasonable, father? There's absolutely no need for you to go to the office. (Although/besides/whether/nevertheless) , it only makes it very awkward for us when people persist in  (talking/speaking/telling/saying) how tired you're looking. Here's this huge house and garden. Surely, you could be happy in — in — appreciating it for a change. Or you could (take/give/get/bring) up some hobby."

Well, well! He couldn't help a grim smile. Where would Lily and her sisters and Charlotte be if he'd gone in for hobbies, he'd like to know? Hobbies couldn't (account/acquire/pay/purchase) for the town house and the seaside bungalow, and their horses, and their golf. Not that he grudged them these things. No, they were smart, good-looking girls, and Charlotte was a remarkable woman; it was natural for them to be in the swim. As a matter of fact, no other house in the town was as (still/even/just/so) with elite guests as theirs; no other family entertained so much. And how many times old Mr Reave had listened to praises of his wife, his girls, of himself even.

"You're an ideal family, sir. It's like something one reads about or sees (held/used/kept/made) the stage."

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