DINNER AT FERNLY
She held out her left hand. On the third finger of it was an exquisitely set single pearl.
“I’m going to marry Ralph, you know,” she went on. “Uncle is very pleased. It keeps me in the family, you see."
I took both her hands in mine.
“My dear,” I said, “I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“We’ve been engaged for about a month,” continued Flora in her cool voice, “but it was only announced yesterday. Uncle is going to do up Cross-stones, and give it to us to live in, and we’re going to pretend to farm. Really, we shall hunt all the winter, town for the season, and then go yachting. I love the sea. And, of course, I shall take a great interest in the parish affairs, and attend all the Mothers’ Meetings.”
Just then Mrs. Ackroyd rustled in, full of apologies for being late.
I am sorry to say I detest Mrs. Ackroyd. She is all chains and teeth and bones. A most unpleasant woman. She has small pale flinty blue eyes, and however gushing her words may be, those eyes of hers always remain coldly speculative.
I went across to her, leaving Flora by the window. She gave me a handful of assorted knuckles and rings to squeeze, and began talking volubly.
Had I heard about Flora’s engagement? So suitable in every way. The dear young things had fallen in love at first sight. Such a perfect pair, he so dark and she so fair.
“I can’t tell you, my dear Dr. Sheppard, the relief to a mother’s heart.”
[35]
