before her husband’s voice called her to the study, where he stood, his broad mouth distended by a broader smile, his eyes twinkling with merriment.
‘Old woman’ (his favourite name for her), ‘do you know what a spectacle I have been witnessing?’ and as she signed inquiry, ‘Mrs. Sprydone, with numerous waggings of the head, and winkings of the eyes, inveigled me into her den, to see—guess.’
‘Francis and Miss Sandbrook in the cloister photographing.’
‘Old woman, you are a witch.’
‘I knew what they were about, as well as Mrs. Sprydone’s agony to open my eyes.’
‘So your obstinate blindness drove her to me! She thought it right that I should be aware The Close, it seems, is in a fever about that poor girl. What do you know? Is it all gossip?’
‘I know there is gossip, as a law of nature, but I have not chosen to hear it.’
‘Then you think it all nonsense?’
‘Not all.’
‘Well, what then? The good ladies seem terribly scandalized by her dress. Is there any harm in that? I always thought it very becoming.’