"It was bad enough driving in from the railroad this afternoon," he said. "Winifred was almost frozen, which is why I didn't go round by Creighton's for the pattern mat—I think that's what he said it was—Mrs. Creighton borrowed from you. I met him at the settlement a day or two ago."
Mrs. Hastings said that he could bring it another time, and while the rest talked of something else Winifred turned to Agatha.
"It really was horribly cold, and I almost fancied one of my hands was frost-nipped," she said. "As it happens, I can't buy mittens like your new ones."
"My new ones?" said Agatha.
"The ones Gregory bought you."
Agatha laughed. "My dear, he never gave me any."
Winifred pursed her face up. "Well," she persisted, "he certainly bought them and a fur cap, too. I was in the store when he did it, though I don't think he noticed me. They were lovely mittens—such a pretty brown fur."
Just then Mrs. Hastings, unobserved by either of them, looked up and caught Sproatly's eye. His face became suddenly expressionless, and he looked away.
"When was that?" asked Agatha.
"A fortnight ago, anyway."