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She
scorns
my
invariable
rejoinder
that
Mr
.
Ferrars
died
of
acute
gastritis
,
helped
on
by
habitual
overindulgence
in
alcoholic
beverages
.
The
symptoms
of
gastritis
and
arsenical
poisoning
are
not
,
I
agree
,
unlike
,
but
Caroline
bases
her
accusation
on
quite
different
lines
.
"
You
’
ve
only
got
to
look
at
her
,
"
I
have
heard
her
say
.
Mrs
.
Ferrars
,
though
not
in
her
first
youth
,
was
a
very
attractive
woman
,
and
her
clothes
,
though
simple
,
always
seemed
to
fit
her
very
well
,
but
all
the
same
,
lots
of
women
buy
their
clothes
in
Paris
,
and
have
not
,
on
that
account
,
necessarily
poisoned
their
husbands
.
As
I
stood
hesitating
in
the
hall
,
with
all
this
passing
through
my
mind
,
Caroline
’
s
voice
came
again
,
with
a
sharper
note
in
it
.
"
What
on
earth
are
you
doing
out
there
,
James
?
Why
don
’
t
you
come
and
get
your
breakfast
?
"
"
Just
coming
,
my
dear
,
"
I
said
hastily
.
"
I
’
ve
been
hanging
up
my
overcoat
.
"
"
You
could
have
hung
up
half
a
dozen
overcoats
in
this
time
.
"
She
was
quite
right
.
I
could
have
.
I
walked
into
the
dining
-
room
,
gave
Caroline
the
accustomed
peck
on
the
cheek
,
and
sat
down
to
eggs
and
bacon
.
The
bacon
was
rather
cold
.
"
You
’
ve
had
an
early
call
,
"
remarked
Caroline
.
"
Yes
,
"
I
said
.
"
King
’
s
Paddock
.
Mrs
.
Ferrars
.
"
"
I
know
,
"
said
my
sister
.
"
How
did
you
know
?
"
"
Annie
told
me
.
"
Annie
is
the
house
parlourmaid
.
A
nice
girl
,
but
an
inveterate
talker
.
There
was
a
pause
.
I
continued
to
eat
eggs
and
bacon
.
My
sister
’
s
nose
,
which
is
long
and
thin
,
quivered
a
little
at
the
tip
,
as
it
always
does
when
she
is
interested
or
excited
over
anything
.
