The two chatted together while Miss Caroline put Ann through a searching catechism as to her past, present, and future mode of life, including the age at which her parents had died, the particular kind of work she had undertaken during the war—appearing somewhat taken aback when Ann explained that she had driven a car, the making of shirts and mufflers coming more within the scope of Caroline’s own idea as to what was “suitable” work for a young girl—and the length of time she had lived with Lady Susan. The coincidence of Robin’s obtaining a post in the neighbourhood of Lady Susan’s home impressed her enormously, as fate’s unexpected shufflings of the cards invariably do impress those whose existence is passed in a very narrow groove.
“It’s really most extraordinary!” she declared, scrutinising Ann much as though she suspected her of having somehow juggled matters in order to produce such a phenomenon. “Did you hear that, Brian? Miss Lovell has been living with our dear Lady Susan.” She spoke as if she held proprietary rights in Lady Susan. “Isn’t it extraordinary that now she and her brother should have come to live so near White Windows?”
“I think it’s a very charming happening,” replied the rector, “since Oldstone Cottage is even nearer to the rectory!”
He smiled across at Ann—a quick, sympathetic smile that seemed to establish them on a footing of friendly intimacy at once.
“Really,” went on Miss Caroline, doggedly pursuing the line of thought to the bitter end of her commonplace mind, “it’s as though it were meant in some way—that you should come to Silverquay.”
“Probably it was,” returned the rector simply, and Ann observed a quiet, dreaming expression come into his eyes—a look of inner vision, tranquilly content and confident.
“Fancy if it turns out like that!” exclaimed Miss Caroline. “It would be a most singular thing, wouldn’t it, if it was really intended?”
“Not at all,” answered Brian composedly. “You’re speaking as though you regarded the Almighty as a thoughtless kind of person who would let things happen, just anyhow.”
“Brian!” Miss Caroline’s tones shuddered with shocked reproach. Her brother often shocked her; he seemed to think of God as simply and naturally as he might of any other friend. She herself, in the course of her parochial work in the village, habitually represented Him as a somewhat prying and easily offended individual who kept a particularly sharp eye on the inhabitants of Silverquay.
She hastily turned the conversation on to less debatable ground.