” “Borrow the money! But who lent you the money?” “A friend,” said Ann Veronica. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. .
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