"By the way, how is Hannah?"
"Hannah is in her hardy usual. She is going strong, and has developed all sorts of latent talent as a cook. She was with me in the furnished flat I rented till the day I left (I only took it by the month), and she'll be with us again when we all get back to Wren's End."
"But I thought Wren's End was let?"
"Only till March quarter-day, and I've cabled to the agent not to entertain any other offer, as we want it ourselves."
"I like to think of the children at Wren's End," Fay said dreamily.
"Don't you like to think of yourself there, too? Would you like any other place better?"
Jan's voice sounded constrained and a little
hard. People sometimes speak crossly when they are frightened, and just then Jan felt the cold, skinny hands of some unnameable terror clutching her heart. Why did Fay always exclude herself from all plans?
They were, as usual, sitting in the verandah after dinner, and Fay's eyes were fixed on the deeply blue expanse of sky. She hardly seemed to hear Jan, for she continued: "Do you remember the sketch Daddie did of me against the yew hedge? I'd like Tony to have that some day if you'd let him."
"Of course that picture is yours," Jan said, hastily. "We never divided the pictures when he died. Some were sold and we shared the money, but our pictures are at Wren's End."