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.I wonder if that can have any significance?’‘We shall consult Enquire Within about removing the stain,’ said Jane.‘It is sure to have a good remedy — something to do with ox-gall or wormwood, so practical.’‘Well, Prudence,’ said Fabian, rather at a loss, ‘I expect I shall be seeing you soon in Town.’‘Oh, possibly,’ said Prudence casually.‘Ring me up some time.’Not a very satisfactory leave-taking, thought Jane.There seemed to be some want of enthusiasm, some lack of proper sadness, unless their casual manner was merely a way of disguising their deeper feelings.‘That silly little woman,’ said Prudence crossly as they walked home, ‘upsetting my tea like that.And then everyone made such a fuss.I don’t think I shall come to Evensong, Jane.I really don’t feel in the mood.’‘Oh, don’t you? What a pity,’ said Jane.‘I love Evensong.There’s something sad and essentially English about it, especially in the country, and so many of the old people are there.I always like that poem with the lines about gloved the hands that hold the hymnbook that this morning milked the cow.We have the old hymns here, you know.Ancient and Modern.Sun of my Soul, thou Saviour dear… the congregation love it and Nicholas wouldn’t change it for the world.’But Prudence did not want to be made to feel sad, and offered to stay at home and get the supper ready.After she had changed her dress she sat in the drawing-room, hoping that perhaps Fabian would telephone or call.But then she realised that of course he too would be at Evensong.A melancholy summer Sunday evening is a thing known to many women in love, she thought, seeing herself as rather illused, left alone in the big, untidy vicarage kitchen, opening a tin of soup and preparing things to go with spaghetti.Jane hadn’t even any long spaghetti, she thought, the tears coming into her eyes, only horrid little broken-up bits.Oh, my Love, she said to herself, sitting down at the scrubbed kitchen table, thoughts of Fabian and Arthur Grampian and others, Philip, Henry and Laurence from the distant past, coming into her mind.Then she thought of Geoffrey Manifold and how good he was to his aunt, and a sense of the sadness of life in general came over her, so that she almost forgot about Fabian refusing to walk with her in the twilight in case it should prejudice his chances of being elected to the Parochial Church Council.When Jane and Nicholas came back from Evensong they found her crouching on the floor in the dining-room, delving in the dark sideboard cupboard among the empty biscuit barrels and tarnished cruets for the sherry decanter.Chapter NineteenTHE TUESDAY following that week-end the weather broke, and on Wednesday it was still raining when Jessie Morrow set out for her afternoon off.‘I shall go to the pictures,’ she said in answer to Miss Doggett’s enquiries, ‘and have a high tea at the Regal Cafe.’‘Why not call and see Canon and Mrs.Pritchard?’ Miss Doggett suggested.‘You know we have an open invitation to visit her house any time.’‘The kind of invitation that includes everybody in the parish and means nobody,’ said Jessie scornfully.‘I’m sure Mrs.Pritchard would give you a cup of tea.’‘But not plaice and chips, which is what I usually have after the pictures — plaice and chips, a fancy cake or two and a pot of good strong tea.’‘Mrs.Pritchard always had her own special blend, something between Earl Grey and Orange Pekoe,’ said Miss Doggett rather wistfully.‘I suppose she still has it there, in those exquisitely thin cups.Poor Constance was fond of China tea, too.’But Fabian likes Indian and a good strong cup, thought Jessie gleefully.Now that they had spent several of her half-days together he even enjoyed the fish tea which he had at first thought rather vulgar and had got over his anxiety lest anyone they knew might see them together.He still ate his plaice and chips a little furtively, though, and did not help himself to tomato ketchup as liberally as Jessie did
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