Poor Miss Pinnegar dwindled, convinced.
“You make it hard for me, in Woodhouse,” she said, hopeless.
“Never mind,” said Alvina, kissing her. “Woodhouse isn’t heaven and earth.”
“It’s been my home for forty years.”
“It’s been mine for thirty. That’s why I’m glad to leave it.” There was a pause.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Miss Pinnegar, “about opening a little business in Tamworth. You know the Watsons are there.”
“I believe you’d be happy,” said Alvina.
Miss Pinnegar pulled herself together. She had energy and courage still.
“I don’t want to stay here, anyhow,” she said. “Woodhouse has nothing for me any more.”
“Of course it hasn’t,” said Alvina. “I think you’d be happier away from it.”