"Twenty years do you say? Ah, a long time. But years mean nothing where the heart is concerned. Twenty years may be only as twenty days. And he was—how did it happen?"
Mrs. Morris jerked out one word—"Drowned."
"Really. But how sad! So sudden! So unexpected!"
A pause.
"I wonder how soon the fly will be here." Mrs. Brutt was conscious again of exhaustion. She put down the defunct husband, and tried a new notion.
"Wouldn't it be a capital plan, if we might see over the house? I love old farms. So full of curiosities, you know, and steps up and down. And farm-kitchens are too delightful for anything—the chimney-corners, and flitches of bacon, and saucepans that one can see one's face in. So idyllic! And I adore old beams. Such a history of the past written in them."
Mrs. Morris offered no objection. Perhaps she hoped thus to escape further questioning; a hope not destined to find fulfilment. The two ladies vanished, led by Mrs. Morris, and followed by Jane. Doris made a move towards Winnie.
"Are you ill? I think you ought to lie down." She had seen Winnie's start from the sofa when they arrived.
"By-and-by—" with a smile.
"You are shivering. Don't wait till by-and-by. I'll tell them I made you." With a pretty air of command she insisted, covering the girl well up. "What makes you feel so bad?"