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She had already managed to dislodge him a good deal from his former
intimacy with the Squire. Luckily she was a much better scholar than
he, though she admitted that his artistic judgment was worth having.
As a shelter from a rather cold north wind, she was sitting in full
sun under the protection of a yew hedge of ancient growth, which ran
out at right angles to the library, and made one side of a
quadrangular rose-garden, planted by Mrs. Mannering long ago, and
now, like everything else, in confusion and neglect.
Presently she heard voices on the other side of the hedge--Mrs.
Strang, no doubt, and Mrs. Gaddesden. She did not take much to
either lady. Mrs. Strang seemed to her full of good intentions, but
without practical ability to fit them. For Mrs. Gaddesden's type she
had an instinctive contempt, the contempt of the clever woman of
small means who has had to earn her own living, and to watch in
silence the poses and pretences of rich women playing at
philanthropy. But, all the same, she and the servants between them
had made Mrs.


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