sure we shall have Mrs. Lestrange for tea. It’s so mysterious, isn’t it, her arriving like this and taking a house down here, and hardly ever going outside it? Makes one think of detective stories. You know—‘Who was she, the mysterious woman with the pale, beautiful face? What was her past history? Nobody knew. There was something faintly sinister about her.’ I believe Dr. Haydock knows something about her.”
“You read too many detective stories, Griselda,” I observed mildly.
“What about you?” she retorted. “I was looking everywhere for The Stain on the Stairs the other day when you were in here writing a sermon. And at last I came in to ask you if you’d seen it anywhere, and what did I find?”
I had the grace to blush.
“I picked it up at random. A chance sentence caught my eye and—”
“I know those chance sentences,” said Griselda. She quoted impressively, “And then a very curious thing happened—Griselda rose, crossed the room and kissed her elderly husband affectionately.”
She suited the action to the word.
“Is that a very curious thing?” I inquired.
“Of course it is,” said Griselda. “Do you realize, Len, that I might have married a Cabinet Minister, a Baronet, a rich Company Promoter, three subalterns and a ne’er-do-well with attractive manners, and that instead I chose you? Didn’t it astonish you very much?”
“At the time it did,” I replied. “I have often wondered why you did it.”
Griselda laughed.