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What a goose Rosamund was! "Yes, Timmy," she bent forward and smiled a little, "it is quite true that I have been asked to go to India, but that doesn't mean that I'm going." "I would, if I were you," said the child gravely. "Would you?" Again she smiled. "But I've only just come to Beechfield. I hope you're not in a hurry to get rid of me?" "No," he said, "I'm not in a hurry, exactly.
And meanwhile the man of whom every single human being in Old Place, with the exception of the little village day girl, was thinking this afternoon, was coming ever nearer and nearer to Beechfield in an ecstasy of sentient joy at being "at home" again.
Miss Crofton had also stayed on in Beechfield, but only a day longer than she had intended to do that is, till the Tuesday. She and Miss Pendarth had met more than once, striking up something like a real friendship. But this, instead of modifying, had intensified Miss Pendarth's growing prejudice against the new tenant of The Trellis House.
Evandale and took up her abode at the Rectory. She made an ideal parson's wife. Her health had grown stronger in the quiet atmosphere of Miss Vane's home; and, curiously enough, she never had another of her strange "seizures" after her departure from Beechfield Hall. She herself always believed that she had conquered them by an effort of will; but Mr.
Careful village mothers would not let their children play with her, and district-visitors went out of their way to avoid her for she had been known to fling stones at boys who had come too near, and she laughed in the faces of people who tried to lecture her. Jenny Westwood was thus very little in the way of hearing Beechfield gossip, or she would have known all about Mr.
Crofton than most of the people in Beechfield do." She spoke with that touch of mysterious finality which is always so irritating to a listener who is in indifferent sympathy with a speaker. "What d'you mean?" cried Jack fiercely. "I insist on your telling me what you mean!" Janet Tosswill told herself with Scotch directness that she had been a fool.
Olivia Pendarth and her colourless younger sister, Anne, the latter now long dead, had settled down at Beechfield in the nineties of the last century. When both over thirty years of age, they had selected Beechfield as a dwelling-place because of its quiet charm and nearness to London.
"The rest of Beechfield has altered comparatively little, but Old Place is very different, with George gone, and all those young people who were children when you went away, grown up. As for Timmy, he was little more than a baby ten years ago." "Timmy is my godson," said Radmore quickly. Her allusion to George had cut him. Miss Pendarth turned on him rather sharply. "Of course I know that!
Into this room one of our lay Sisters went by accident, not knowing that Jane Wood was there for seclusion, and began to talk to her. This young woman, Martha by name, came from the neighborhood of Beechfield, and happened to mention Mrs. Rumbold." "Ah, I see!" Hubert exclaimed involuntarily.
It was natural perhaps that Martha should pass on to the subject of that tragedy at Beechfield the murder of Mr. Sydney Vane and the fate of the murderer." Sister Louisa paused for a moment it seemed to her that the young man's dark handsome face had turned exceedingly pale.
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