"They must soon be here," said Mrs. Galleon gloomily. Her gloom was happy
and comfortable. She was making the very most of a pleasant business with
the greatest satisfaction in the world. She had done exactly the same at
Bobby's wedding, and, in her heavy, determined way she would do the same
again before she died. Alice Galleon would be there in a moment, meantime
the two ladies, without moving in their chairs, flung sentences across at
one another and smoothed their silk skirts with their white plump hands.
"It's not really a healthy house--"
"No--with the orchard--and it's much too small--"
"Poor dears, hope they'll be happy. But one can't help feeling, Jane dear,
that it was a little rash of you ... your only girl ... and one knows so
little about Mr. Westcott, really--"
"Well, your own Bobby vouched for him. He'd known him at school after all,
and we all know how cautious Bobby is about people--besides, Emma, no one
could have received him more warmly--"
"Yes--Oh! of course ... but still, having no family--coming out of nowhere,
so to speak--"
"Well, it's to be hoped they'll get on. I must say that Clare will miss her
home terribly. It takes a lot to make up for that--And her father so
devoted too...."
"Yes, we must make the best of it."
The sun's light faded from the room--the clock and the pictures stood out
sharply against the gathering dusk.
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