Gaddesden's knitting to rights at
least three times, and held the wool for that lady to wind till her
arm ached. Then Mrs. Gaddesden retired to bed; the Squire, who with
only occasional mutterings and mumblings had been deep in
Elizabeth's copy of the _Times_, which she had at last ventured to
produce in public, went off to the library, and Elizabeth and Pamela
were left in the hall alone.
Elizabeth lingered over the fire; while Pamela wondered impatiently
why she did not go to her office work as she generally did about
nine o'clock. Pamela's mood was more thorny than ever. Had she not
seen a letter in Elizabeth's handwriting lying that very afternoon
on the hall-table for post--addressed to Captain Chicksands, D.S.O.,
War Office, Whitehall? Common sense told her that it probably
contained nothing but an answer to some questions Arthur had put to
the Squire's 'business secretary' as to the amount of ash in the
Squire's woods--Arthur's Intelligence appointment having something
to do with the Air Board.
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