" And then she added, almost as if in
spite of herself, and with a kind of strange, bitter truthfulness very
foreign to her: "I don't like Beechfield--I don't agree that it's a
pretty place--I think it's a hideous little village."
There was a pause. She was seeking for a phrase in which to say
"Good-bye," not so much to Timmy as to all the others.
"Will you go away to-morrow?" he asked, this time boldly. And she
answered, "Yes, to-morrow."
"Perhaps I'd better not tell any of them at Old Place?" It was as if he
was speaking to himself.
She clutched at the words.
"I would far rather you did not tell them--I will write to them from
London. Can I trust you not to tell them, Timmy?"
He looked at her oddly. "Jack and Rosamund will be sorry," he said
slowly. And then he jerked his head--his usual way of signifying
"Good-bye" when he did not care to shake hands.
Turning round he walked out of the room, and she heard the front door
bang after him, as also, after a moment or two, the outside door set in
the garden wall.
Enid Crofton got up. Though she was shaking--shaking all over--she walked
swiftly across her little hall into the dining-room. There she sat down
at the writing-table, and took up the telephone receiver.
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