“Seen that chayney vawse?” He pointed across the room to a pedestal upon which was a blue china bowl.
“Looks like genuine Ming,” Gertrude opened a pair of long-handled tortoiseshell glasses. There was less than a score of ladies in the whole of Blackhampton who sported glasses of that ultra-fashionable kind, but Miss Preston was one of them.
“That young feller Parish said it was genuine and he ought to know.”
“Charming,” Gerty sighed effectively; then her eyes went slowly round the room. “This room is perfect. And such a view. You stand so high that you can look right over the city without knowing that it’s there. And there’s the Sharrow beyond. Isn’t that Corfield Weir on the right?”
Rather proudly Josiah said that it was Corfield Weir.
“And that great bank of trees going up into the sky must be Dibley Chase.”
“Dibley right enough,” vouched Josiah. “Have you had a look from the tower?”
“Yes, I have. Wonderful. Maria says on a clear day you can see Cliveden Castle.”
“Aye. And a sight farther than that. You can see three counties up there. To my mind, Gert, this house stands on the plumb bit of The Rise.”
Gertrude fully agreed.