"Indeed? I usually am. But when do you mean particularly?"
"When you said we should have to give up Anderby."
"Oh."
"I was wrong in the garden the other day. And I knew I was wrong all the time. That's why I was so angry, I suppose."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. This was the first time she ever remembered hearing Mary confess herself mistaken.
"I have not had time yet to talk to Toby, but I will in the morning. About selling the farm, I mean. I think we'll sell and not let it. I shouldn't like the idea of anyone but a Robson farming it while it was still mine. Then we could live at Littledale, or Market Burton."
Sarah said nothing. Until last Wednesday she had never believed it possible that she could have been so sorry for Mary. The flat, weary voice went on.
"You know, ever since we drove down the hill and heard about the fire, I've had a sort of feeling that if I had given way at once and said we would retire, when everyone thought we should, this wouldn't have happened."
"Now, you're being sentimental, Mary. You know quite well it had nothing on earth to do with you retiring."
"I'm not so sure. I think Waite did it to drive us out of the village. If he'd heard we were going anyhow...."