“And you’ve had it ever since!”
“I wouldn’t part with it for all Mrs Waddesleigh Peagrim’s millions,” said Wally with sudden and startling vehemence, “if she offered me them.” He paused. “She hasn’t, as a matter of fact.”
There was a silence. Jill looked at Wally furtively, as he returned to his seat. She was seeing him with new eyes. It was as if this trifling incident had removed some sort of a veil. He had suddenly become more alive. For an instant she had seen right into him, to the hidden deeps of his soul. She felt shy and embarrassed.
“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.