Eve had a suggestion to make.
“You will have to get some new blouses at the next town. I shall have to go in and shop for you.”
They glanced at her critically, realising for the first time that she had escaped without any of the marks of martyrdom.
“Didn’t you get any?”
“No; you seem to have been the favourites.”
“Disgusting savages!”
“The Sussex people always were the worst boors in England.”
When they had made some sort of job of their mutual grooming, and had eaten a few rock-cakes and biscuits, Joan Gaunt unbuttoned her blouse and drew from the inner depths a long white envelope. Lizzie Straker sidled nearer, still holding the candle. Eve had not seen this envelope before.
She stood up and looked down over their shoulders as they sat. Joan Gaunt had drawn out a sheet of foolscap that was covered with cipher.
Lizzie Straker pointed an eager finger.