Payne made no reply. Suddenly he looked up at a house they were passing. It was a small house standing back from the street.
“By the way. We were awfully sorry to hear about that poor fellow Armitage,” he said. “His wife is staying there.”
“Staying there? In that house? Why, I thought she was in ‘King.’”
“No. She came down here about a week ago—she only heard about the poor fellow the day before yesterday.”
“Is she very much cut up?”
“Dreadfully, I’m told. She is staying with another friend of yours—Mrs Hicks.”
“Then she’s in good hands. Look here, Payne. I’ll go in for a moment and ask after her—poor little thing. And if I’m not out in five minutes, just take my horse round to Wood’s and make them off-saddle him and give him a feed. It’s all on my way and it’ll save time. I’ll join you there, if you don’t mind waiting.”
Quickly walking up the little gravel path bordered with orange-trees, and shaded with trellised vines, Claverton knocked gently at the door. A subdued footstep in the silent passage, and it was opened—by Laura. She stared at him in amazement.
“Why, when did you come? I thought you were away at the front. Do come in.” A superfluous request, seeing that she had already shut the door behind him. “Poor Gertie will like to see you.”
“How does she bear it?”