For well he knew she had
been cruel to her elderly husband. He was sorry now that she had come to
Beechfield. She had become an irritating, disturbing element in his life.
Radmore had looked at every eligible property within a radius of twenty
miles of Old Place, but though some of them did not fall far short of the
ideal he had in his mind, he hadn't felt as if he wanted any of them.
They were too trim, too new--in a word, too suburban. Even the very old
houses had been transformed by their owners much as The Trellis House had
been transformed, into something to suit modern taste. He told himself
that he must begin looking again--looking in real dead earnest, going
farther afield.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he had driven on and on, almost mechanically,
till suddenly they came to four cross-roads. He drew up under a
sign-post, jumped out and struck a match, and as he read the painted
words he realised, with vexation, that he had gone a good bit out of his
way. There was nothing for it now but to go on till they struck the
Portsmouth Road. It was the quietest hour of the twenty-four, and it was
very unlikely they would meet with anyone who could put them right.
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