“I hear the Vicar of Saint Peter’s is very ill indeed,” said Mrs Orgreave, blandly interrupting her husband.
“What? Heve? With influenza?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t tell you before because I thought it might pull you down again.”
Mr Orgreave, in silence, stared at the immense fire.
“What about this tea, Janet?” he demanded.
Janet rang the bell.
“Oh! I’d have done that!” said Edwin, as soon as she had done it.
Three.
While Janet was pouring out the tea, Edwin restored Ogilvie to his place in the bookcase, feeling that he had had enough of Ogilvie.