mean that. But to be in the midst of things—exciting things—even if I’m only the looker-on. You know, things don’t happen in St. Mary Mead.”
“They don’t indeed,” said Mrs. Harrison, with fervour.
“I shall go to London first,” said Katherine. “I have to see the solicitors, anyway. After that, I shall go abroad, I think.”
“Very nice.”
“But, of course, first of all—”
“Yes?”
“I must get some clothes.”
“Exactly what I said to Arthur this morning,” cried the doctor’s wife. “You know, Katherine, you could look possibly positively beautiful if you tried.”
Miss Grey laughed unaffectedly.
“Oh! I don’t think you could ever make a beauty out of me,” she said sincerely. “But I shall enjoy having some really good clothes. I’m afraid I’m talking about myself an awful lot.”
Mrs. Harrison looked at her shrewdly.
“It must be quite a novel experience for you,” she said drily.
Katherine went to say goodbye to old Miss Viner before leaving the village. Miss Viner was two years older than Mrs. Harfield, and her mind was mainly taken up with her own success in outliving her dead friend.
“You wouldn’t have thought I’d have outlasted Jane Harfield, would you?” she demanded triumphantly of Katherine. “We were at school