” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well. I deserve pretty much what I’ve got. There were electric and ice plants, and a great store in which one could buy anything from jewsharps to gas-engines. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas.
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