“If you ask me, it’s Miss Stella’s doing. She’s lived here nearly all her life and hasn’t got a husband, so she thinks she’ll go and try somewhere else before it’s too late.”
“Then they’d certainly better go to the Colonies—there are no men left in England. But I’m sorry for Dr. Mount.”
“I suppose you know it’s all over between her and Gervase?”
“Oh, is it—at last?”
“Yes—he hasn’t been there since his holiday in September. He has his dinner on Sundays either at the Church Farm or alone with Mr. Luce.”
“Rose, how do you find out all these things?”
“The Wades told me this. They say she’s been looking awful.”
“Peter!” cried Vera irritably, as a small occasional table went to the ground.
“No harm done,” he mumbled, picking it up.
“But you’re so clumsy. You’re always knocking things over....” She checked herself suddenly, pleating angry folds in her gown.