“No, I haven’t.”
“Stella was here three days ago, and she said that they’ve at last settled about the practice. She seemed to think they might be free to go at the end of May.”
“Oh.”
“I expect Vera’s glad they didn’t go off in a hurry, and leave her with a new man for the baby. Dr. Mount’s the best maternity doctor for miles round.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that.”
He was falling back into silence, and no remark of hers on any topic seemed able to rouse him out of it, though she tried once or twice to re-animate him on the subject of Gervase. He lounged opposite her in his armchair, puffing at his pipe, and staring at the fire, now and then painfully dragging out a “yes” or a “no.” She was beginning to feel bored with him and to think about her work upstairs. Was this all he had to say to her after three months’ estrangement?—an estrangement which he had never troubled to explain. She had been weak with him—let him off too easily—she ought to have “had things out with him” about her marriage. She had a right to know his reasons for forgiving her just as she had a right to know his reasons for shunning her.... He had treated her inexplicably.
She was working herself up to wrath like this when Peter suddenly spoke of his own accord.
“This place is like what Starvecrow used to be.”
“Used to be?—when?”
“Before Vera and I came to it—when the Greenings had it. Do you remember the kitchen fireplace?—it was just like this.”