“He never has done till now, but there’s a sentence here that reads doubtfully. “Muriel,” he says, “has been terribly upset about my accident. I can’t persuade her that I didn’t get thrown on purpose; yet I assure you I didn’t.””
Everard laughed.
“If old Tom becomes ironical, he must be hard driven. I have no great longing to meet Mrs. Thomas.”
“She’s a silly and a vulgar woman. But I told him that in plain terms before he married. It says much for his good nature that he remains so friendly with me. Read the letter, Everard.”
He did so.
“H’m—very kind things about me. Good old Tom! Why don’t I marry? Well, now, one would have thought that his own experience—”
Miss Barfoot began to talk about something else. Before very long Rhoda came back, and in the conversation that followed it was mentioned that she would leave for her holiday in two days.
“I have been reading about Cheddar,” exclaimed Everard, with animation. “There’s a flower grows among the rocks called the Cheddar pink. Do you know it?”
“Oh, very well,” Rhoda answered. “I’ll bring you some specimens.”
“Will you? That’s very kind.”