heaven to a young man. There must be some other reason—it’s not that I’m unattractive—I’m not.”
“Surely you don’t want him to make love to you?”
“N‑n‑o,” said Griselda, with more hesitation than I thought becoming.
“If he’s in love with Lettice Protheroe—”
“Miss Marple didn’t seem to think he was.”
“Miss Marple may be mistaken.”
“She never is. That kind of old cat is always right.” She paused a minute and then said, with a quick sidelong glance at me: “You do believe me, don’t you? I mean, that there’s nothing between Lawrence and me.”
“My dear Griselda,” I said, surprised. “Of course.”
My wife came across and kissed me.
“I wish you weren’t so terribly easy to deceive, Len. You’d believe me whatever I said.”
“I should hope so. But, my dear, I do beg you to guard your tongue and be careful of what you say. These women are singularly deficient in humour, remember, and take everything seriously.”
“What they need,” said Griselda, “is a little immorality in their lives. Then they wouldn’t be so busy looking for it in other people’s.”
And on this she left the room, and glancing at my watch I hurried out to pay some visits that ought to have been made earlier in the day.
That Wednesday evening service was sparsely attended as usual, but when I came out through the church, after disrobing in the vestry, it was