other three minutes," and then, "Still there, Janet?"
"Of course I am. We'll expect you on Friday, Godfrey, by tea-time, and
I hope you'll stay as long as you can. You won't mind having your old
room?"
"Rather not!" and then in a hesitating, shamefaced voice:--"I needn't
tell _you_ that to me Old Place _is_ home."
It was in a very kindly voice that she answered: "I'm glad you still feel
like that, Godfrey."
"Of course I do, and of course I am ashamed of not having written more
often. I often think of you all--especially of dear old George--" There
came a pause, then the words:--"I want to ask you a question, Janet."
Janet Tosswill felt quite sure she knew what that question would be.
Before linking up with them all again Godfrey wanted to know certain
facts about George. While waiting for him to speak she had time to tell
herself that this would prove that her husband and Betty, the eldest of
her three step-daughters, had been wrong in thinking that Godfrey Radmore
knew that George, Betty's twin, had been killed in the autumn of 1916. At
that time all correspondence between Radmore and Old Place had ceased for
a long time. When it had begun again in 1917, in the form of a chaffing
letter and a cheque for five pounds to the writer's godson, Betty had
suggested that nothing should be said of George's death in Timmy's
answer. Of course Betty's wish had been respected, the more so that Janet
herself felt sure that Godfrey did not know. Why, he and George--dear,
sunny-natured George--had been like fond brothers in the long ago, before
Godfrey's unfortunate love-affair with Betty.
And so it was that when she heard his next words they took her entirely
by surprise, for it was such an unimportant, as well as unexpected,
question that the unseen speaker asked.
"Has Mrs. Crofton settled down at The Trellis House yet?"
"She's arriving to-day, I believe. When she first thought of coming here
she wrote John such a nice letter, saying she was a friend of yours, and
that you had told her about Beechfield. Luckily, The Trellis House was to
let, so John wrote and told her about it."
Then, at last, came a more intimate question. The man's voice at the
other end of the telephone became diffident--hesitating:--"Are you all
right? Everything as usual?"
She answered, drily. "Everything's quite as usual, thank you. Beechfield
never changes. Since you were last here there have only been two new
cottages built." She paused
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