together, she and I. And here we are, she taken, and I left. Who would have thought it?”
“You’ve always eaten brown bread for supper, haven’t you?” murmured Katherine mechanically.
“Fancy your remembering that, my dear. Yes; if Jane Harfield had had a slice of brown bread every evening and taken a little stimulant with her meals she might be here today.”
The old lady paused, nodding her head triumphantly; then added in sudden remembrance:
“And so you’ve come into a lot of money, I hear? Well, well. Take care of it. And you’re going up to London to have a good time? Don’t think you’ll get married, though, my dear, because you won’t. You’re not the kind to attract the men. And, besides, you’re getting on. How old are you now?”
“Thirty-three,” Katherine told her.
“Well,” remarked Miss Viner doubtfully, “that’s not so very bad. You’ve lost your first freshness, of course.”
“I’m afraid so,” said Katherine, much entertained.
“But you’re a very nice girl,” said Miss Viner kindly. “And I’m sure there’s many a man might do worse than take you for a wife instead of one of these flibbertigibbets running about nowadays showing more of their legs than the Creator ever intended them to. Goodbye, my dear, and I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, but things are seldom what they seem in this life.”
Heartened by these prophecies, Katherine took her departure. Half the village came to see her off at the station, including the little maid of all work, Alice, who brought a stiff wired nosegay and cried openly.