And then before long there’d be the teachers’ picnic and then there’d be the Hockey Club Committee and the Whist Drives beginning, and soon they’d have to think of the Conservative Club dances, and so on to the Winter Sale of Work and the Turkey Fund bazaar, the Bethlehem Tableaux, the operatic show — probably Ruddigore — the School Christmas Tree, the Church Christmas Tree, and the performance of As You Like It. Oh, curse all this, thought Mary. I’d give anything to be back in London. But no, that wasn’t quite sincere. The thought of all this activity and organising pleased her. She really looked forward to all of it—except, perhaps, the Whist Drives.

“I’m sure I don’t know what we should do without you, Mrs. Scriven,” said Miss Townend.

And Mary couldn’t help being rather flattered and pleased, as she smiled at the little school-mistressy woman in pince-nez.

After all, she thought—I do get some fun out of my life.

“There aren’t many from Gatesley here this morning,” said Mrs. Higginbottom.

“There’d have been more if they’d held it on a Sunday,” said Mrs. Cooper.

Mary agreed. And suddenly it seemed strange to her that Mrs. Cooper should be Milly Barlow of Stone Hall Farm. Milly, who’d been the witness of all those surreptitious visits—Mary pedalling over the hills on her bicycle in time to meet Desmond when he returned to Gatesley from his hated bank-clerkship in Manchester. Desmond was the Bar-lows’ lodger. And they must, for many weeks, have been half expecting the tremendous and thrilling scandal which finally closed his stay. Does she remember the old days? Mary wondered. Of course, she must remember. Dozens of people in Gatesley must remember. How had she ever dared to come back and live in Gatesley, the scene of all her wickedness? To tell the truth, Mary had hardly given the matter a thought. She liked Gatesley—well, for sentimental reasons, perhaps, and when she decided not to live in Chapel Bridge itself she’d naturally chosen it. She’d had no idea of shocking anybody. If there was gossip, she was too thick-skinned to mind that now. She’d grown a thick skin during her married life. But an outside observer, Lily, for instance, couldn’t be expected to see all that. It was quite likely that Lily had been very deeply shocked at Mary’s callousness. Perhaps that was why she so seldom came to call on them. She didn’t want to seem to condone the offence.

Mrs. Higginbottom said that she thought the service was beautiful.

“Oh, it was beautiful,” agreed Mrs. Cooper. “I think they did everything so”—she searched for a word—“so reverently. It was beautiful.”