But, remember this… Mrs. Scudamore may go to church, but she does not worship God. She worships only the opinion of the neighbours. You’ll find her out, one day.”

At present, there was only one authentic case of illness, and that was at the Hall. But the seasonal hay fever and rheumatism had sent out their usual preliminary notices. Two wealthy maiden-ladies walked in their garden in the cool of evening and admired their flowers. As the elder straightened herself from stooping over a bed of pansies, she clas

In one house a woman rose from her chair, where she sat reading. She, too, kissed her company, and—at the door—looked back into the cheerful room, with a smile. But once outside, her face was that of a dead woman, as she drew from her bag a bit of crumpled paper, covered with printed letters. Someone knew. The years of false security and happiness

“Don’t you pity her,” advised Ada. “She made her own bed when she put herself up. Now, she’s neither flesh, fowl, or good red herring.” “Oh. So she’s been promoted recently?” “Yes. She used to do house-work, like us. But she smarmed Miss Asprey, so now she’s a sekkertary. She sits, all day, with Miss Asprey, and hardly speaks to us.”

Suddenly, he remembered Mrs. Scudamore’s cancelled party, and he wondered if there was any connection between it and Major Blair’s anonymous letter. His heart hammered, and his head began to swim at a new and horrible possibility. He asked himself whether others in the village had also received poison-letters, but had kept their own secrets. As he

Like the most successful diplomatists of history, the Rector had discovered that a queen likes to be treated as a woman; his voice was deferential, but his eyes were more independent, as he sank by her side.

Mrs. Pike, recalled from her first Continental holiday, was back at Miss Corner’s house, getting things ready for the funeral, and later for the sale. Although overcome with sorrow, she was glad to be back in England, although she had only got as far as Ostend, which she disliked intensely. She never went abroad again, but she continued to judge th

He had often played golf with Major Blair—who was a man of typical sporting cut, and usually accepted as handsome, on account of a good build.

“Drag a strange doctor all the way from Cheltenham?” cried his wife. “Whatever for?” “Because I don’t want Perry called in here again.” Both Mrs. Sheriff and her daughter stared at the Squire. Had Ignatius been present, he would have noticed that, while the elder woman was merely astonished, Vivian’s eyes showed fear.