"D'you remember Godfrey Radmore?" she asked as their hands met.
"Come now, you're joking surely. Remember Radmore? I've good cause to; I
don't know whether I ever told you--" there came a slight, very slight
note of embarrassment into his hearty Irish voice--"that I wrote to the
good fellow just after the Armistice, about our Pat. That the boy's doing
as well out in Brisbane as he is, is largely owing to Radmore's good
offices."
Mrs. Tosswill was surprised, and not quite pleased. She wondered why Dr.
O'Farrell had not told her at the time that he was writing to Godfrey.
She still subconsciously felt that Godfrey Radmore belonged to Old Place
and to no one else in Beechfield.
"I didn't know about Pat," she said slowly. "But you'll be able to thank
him in person now, for he's coming on Friday to stay with us."
"Is he now?" The shrewd Irishman looked sharply into her troubled face.
"Well, well, you'll have to let bygones be bygones--eh, Mrs. Toss? I take
it he's a great man now."
"I don't think money makes for greatness," she said.
"Don't you?" he queried drily. "I do! Come admit, woman, that you're
sorry _now_ you didn't let Betty take the risk?"
"I'm not at all sorry--" she cried.
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