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And the impression her brooding made on Rowcliffe was that Mary knew something about Gwenda she did not want to tell. "I don't think," said Mary gravely, "that Gwenda ever will come back again. At least not if she can help it. I thought you knew that." "I suppose I must have known." He left it there. Mary took up her knitting. She was making a little vest for Essy's baby.
That is why I am so furious with Gwenda Pottingdon, who has practically forced herself on me for lunch on Wednesday next; she heard me offer the Paulcote girl lunch if she was up shopping on that day, and, of course, she asked if she might come too. She is only coming to gloat over my bedraggled and flowerless borders and to sing the praises of her own detestably over-cultivated garden.
In the big houses they didn't remember Gwenda Cartaret. They only remembered to forget her. But in the little shops and in the little houses in Morfe there had been continual whispering. They said that even after Dr. Rowcliffe's marriage to that nice wife of his, who was her own sister, the two had been carrying on.
He didn't know why it was disagreeable, and it would have shocked him unspeakably if you had told him why. And if you had asked him he would have had half a dozen noble and righteous reasons ready for you at his finger-ends. But the Vicar with his eyes shut could see clearly that if Gwenda married Rowcliffe the unpleasant event would have its compensation.
She was always having him. "I shall have to go myself tomorrow," he said. "I would if I were you," said Gwenda. "I wonder what Jim Greatorex will do if his father dies." It was Mary who wondered. "He'll get married, like a shot," said Alice. "Who to?" said Gwenda. "He can't marry all the girls " She stopped herself. Essy Gale was in the room.
Another year and she had left off asking him questions. She drew back into herself and became every day more self-willed, more solitary, more inaccessible. And now, if he could have seen things as they really were, Mr. Cartaret would have perceived that he was afraid of Gwenda. As it was, he thought he was only afraid of what Gwenda might do.
More than anything that Robina had yet done, it put him in the wrong. It put him in the wrong not only with Lady Frances and the best people, but it put him in the wrong with Gwenda and kept him there. Against Gwenda, with Lady Frances and a salary of a hundred a year at her back, he hadn't the appearance of a leg to stand on.
This required her sister's co-operation. It couldn't appear if Gwenda didn't. And Gwenda hadn't given it a chance. She meant to have it out with her. She greeted her therefore with a certain challenge. "What are you keeping away for? Do you suppose we aren't glad to see you?" "I'm not keeping away," said Gwenda. "It looks uncommonly like it. Do you know it's two months since you've been here?"
She sat smiling, tranquil among the cries of her offspring. Jim turned three dogs out into the yard by way of discipline. He and Ally tried to talk to each other across the tumult that remained. Now and then Ally and the children talked to Gwenda.
"You shouldn't say things like that; they sound " "How do they sound?" "As if you knew too much." She smiled. "Well, then there's another reason." He softened suddenly. "I didn't mean that, Gwenda. You don't know what you're saying. You don't know anything. It's only that you're so beastly clever." "That's a better reason still. You don't want to marry a beastly clever woman. You really don't."
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