“Oh, it can’t be true. You people are always inventing foolish scandals. What nonsense! Let him rest in his grave in peace.”
She looked so ghastly that even the unobservant gardener noticed it, and made a remark.
“Look white? of course,” she said, with a curious laugh. “Any woman would turn pale on hearing such talk as that. There, go away.”
“You needn’t be cross with me, Sarah Woodham,” said Brime, paying no heed to her last words, and only too glad of an excuse to hold her in conversation. “I knew how you liked Miss Claude, and the news was about her young man, and I thought it better to tell you than go and tell her.”
“What! you would not dare to tell her such a thing.”
“Well, somebody will if I don’t. She’s sure to know.”
“Hush, man! Don’t dare to speak of it again. It is a miserable scandal of some of the tattling gossips, and it will be forgotten, perhaps, to-morrow. There, not another word.”
“But, Sarah, let me talk of something else.”
She went to the door and opened it, pointing out.
“Go,” she said.