"One must keep oneself clean," Miss Causton threw off. "Have some of this, dear. I simply had to have some chocolate nougat to-night!..."
There was a rustling of tissue paper.
"Well, it's a sign, and so's her hair-waving and polishing her nails and that lace yoke," Miss Windus resumed.
"Oh yes, the pneumonia blouse——"
"And her heels—and a scent-sachet!..."
You see that I was quite deliberately listening. I am not putting on any airs about it. I might have been Polwhele. I wanted to know, so I listened. I did more than listen too. I watched. I knew that the shelves were only half full on the other side; only a screen of stout wire separated the books facing one way from those facing the other; and by pulling out a book or two on my side I should probably find a peephole.... Very softly I pulled three or four out, found my opening and looked. Miss Causton appeared to be standing with her back towards me; I couldn't see her; but I could see Miss Windus, sitting on the library ladder holding its short staff, with her plaid skirt pulled tightly about one carrot-shaped thigh.
They began to talk again.
"And another thing that makes me quite sure, dear! She's going to young Merridew's next week-end!"
"Don't be absurd. You know what I mean. To his parents', of course; they live in Guildford.... Not that she told me, oh no! Not her ladyship!"