“I’ll bet a tea-cake to a penny bun, dear, that it is the Murchisons who have taken their house in Lombard Street again.”
“Nonsense!”
Betty Steel’s eyes grew hard and dangerous at the suggestion.
“Why nonsense?”
“The Murchisons would hardly have the impudence to sneak back to Roxton. People don’t care to be bungled into the next world by a drunkard.”
“My word, Betty, draw it mild. I never heard that the man drank.”
“You were in Italy, then, I believe.”
“Nasty, nasty! You are peevish over the poor people’s failings!”
“I hate that woman, Madge.”
Miss Ellison laughed at the sincerity of her friend’s spite.