"Pat died," she said at length. She felt the necessity of saying something.
"I liked Pat."
"He picked up some poison, poor darling.... How long ago those days seem, don't they?"
"They are always pretty vivid to me. I wonder who has that old house of yours now."
"I heard the other day," said Jill more easily. The odd sensation of embarrassment was passing. "Some people called ... what was the name?... Debenham, I think."
Silence fell again. It was broken by the front-door bell, like an alarm-clock that shatters a dream.
Wally got up.
"Your uncle," he said.
"You aren't going to open the door?"
"That was the scheme."