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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Really," he said at last, "that's too bad! I can't understand, Miss Pendarth, how you can believe such a story " He nearly added, "or allow it to be told you!" "I wouldn't believe everybody," she said in a low voice, "but I do believe Jane Nichol. She's a sensible, quiet, reserved girl. She seems to have passed quite close to them, but they were so absorbed in themselves that they didn't see her.
"Godfrey Radmore?" It was Miss Pendarth's turn to be genuinely surprised. "Godfrey Radmore! Then she's Australian? I thought there was something odd about her." Betty smiled, but she felt irritated. In some ways Miss Pendarth was surely very narrow-minded! "No, she's not Australian at least I'm pretty sure she's not. They met during the War, in Egypt.
He felt hideously disturbed as certain tiny past happenings crowded on his memory. He felt he would give half his possessions were it possible thereby to transplant The Trellis House hundreds of miles from Beechfield. He threw a rueful thought to Jack Tosswill. Miss Pendarth had been right, after all.
"There was strychnine in the house," said Miss Pendarth slowly. "When Mrs. Crofton was in Egypt it was prescribed for her. You know how people take it by the drop? A chemist out there seems to have given her a much greater quantity than was needed, and in an ordinary, unlabelled medicine bottle, too."
It was her readiness to give that sort of quick, kindly, decisive help which made so many of those who had the privilege of her acquaintance regard Miss Pendarth with the solid liking which is founded on gratitude.
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.
There was another fact about Miss Pendarth, and one which much contributed to her importance even with the people who disliked and feared her: she was the only inhabitant of the remote Surrey village who was in touch with the world of fashion and society who knew people whose "pictures are in the papers."
At last Miss Pendarth opened the door giving into the garden, and Timmy, jumping up, hurried down the path toward the house. He then saw that she held a neat-looking brown paper roll in her hand, and over the roll was slipped an india-rubber band. "I thought it a pity to waste a big envelope," she observed, "so I have done up the newspaper and my note to your mother into a roll.
"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!
The house was situated in the village street, with, however, a paved forecourt, in which stood two huge Italian oil jars gay from April to November with narcissi, tulips, or pink geraniums. Miss Pendarth was proud of the fine old Sussex ironwork gate and railing which separated her domain from the village street.
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