thoughtfully.
Reeves suddenly sat up. “Forget it,” he said, and threw his daisy chain round Anne’s neck. “It’s not your line of country. You go and persuade her ladyship to let Gramarye to some nice young couple from away, who’ll only think of the Warden as a bad joke and who’ll take an interest in vegetable marrows. It suits you,” he concluded, regarding the daisy chain with admiration.
“Forget it,” murmured Anne. “That’s good advice. I will. But I shan’t forget you, either of you.”
“That’s very kindly said,” replied Macdonald.
The End
Вы читаете Murder in the Mill-Race
