“Why?” said Mrs. Harter sharply. “I think it’s a horrid little country town, and the people in it mostly snobs.”
“Why do you think that? I’ve found them all so kind and friendly.”
“You! Yes. That’s different. But you don’t suppose I should have been asked to-night if I hadn’t happened to sing at the concert the other day. That Mrs. Fazackerly is a kind little soul, and everyone knows she’s had a hell of a time. But I’ve not any use for the Ambreys—especially that girl.”
“I’m sorry you feel like that.”
“I know you all thought I was going to spoil the evening, at first. I couldn’t help it.” Her voice softened a little in the darkness. “I felt such a fish out of water.”
“Sometimes I’ve felt like that myself. I used to when I was in the Army, very often. But one gets over it. People are awfully kind, really.”
“Martyn Ambrey is all right, and Mrs. Ambrey, that girl’s mother. Do you know her?”
“I’ve met her.”
“They weren’t living here when I was at home. As for the high and mighty Lady Flower, you saw what she was like that night at the concert.”
“Was she especially—anything?”