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Horace’s camera clicked ‘There,’ he said in a satisfied voice ‘Remind me to show you No 310 in my collection A really incredibleat the house, ‘I can’t conceive of how Mr Greenshaw thought of it all’

‘Rather obvious in some ways,’ said Raymond ‘He had visited the chateaux of the Loire, don’t you think? Those turrets And then, rather unfortunately, he seems to have travelled in the Orient The influence of the Taj Mahal is un,’ he added, ‘and the traces of a Venetian palace’

‘One wonders how he ever got hold of an architect to carry out these ideas’

Rayed his shoulders

‘No difficulty about that, I expect,’ he said ‘Probably the architect retired with a good income for life while poor old Greenshaent bankrupt’

‘Could we look at it fro!’

‘We’re trespassing all right,’ said Raymond, ‘but I don’t think it will matter’

He turned towards the corner of the house and Horace skipped after him

‘But who lives here, my dear? Orphans or holiday visitors? It can’t be a school No playing-fields or brisk efficiency’

‘Oh, a Greenshaw lives here still,’ said Rayo in the crash Old Greenshaw’s son inherited it He was a bit of a miser and lived here in a corner of it Never spent a penny Probably never had a penny to spend His daughter lives here now Old lady—very eccentric’

As he spoke Rayht of Greenshaw’s Folly as a uest These literary critics always professed the for a week-end in the country, and ont to find the country extreot there Tomorrow there would be the Sunday papers, and for today Ray a visit to Greenshaw’s Folly to enrich Horace Bindler’s well-known collection of monstrosities

They turned the corner of the house and cae artificial rockery, and bending over it was a figure at sight of which Horace clutched Rayhtedly by the arm

‘My dear,’ he exclaied print dress Just like a housemaid—when there were house at a house in the country when I was quite a boy where a real house in a print dress and a cap Yes, my boy, really—a cap Muslin with streamers No, perhaps it was the parlour-maid who had the streaht in an enor’

The figure in the print dress had straightened up and had turned towards theure Unkerey fell wispily on her shoulders, a straw hat rather like the hats that horses wear in Italy was crammed down on her head The coloured print dress she wore fell nearly to her ankles Out of a weatherbeaten, not-too-clean face, shrewd eyes surveyed thely

‘I , Miss Greenshaw,’ said Raymond West, as he advanced towards her, ‘but Mr Horace Bindler who is staying with me—’

Horace bowed and removed his hat

‘—is s’

Raymond West spoke with the ease of a well-known author who knows that he is a celebrity, that he can venture where other people may not

Miss Greenshaw looked up at the sprawling exuberance behind her

‘It is a fine house,’ she said appreciatively ‘My grandfather built it—beforesaid that he wished to astonish the natives’

‘I’ll say he did that, ma’am,’ said Horace Bindler

‘Mr Bindler is the well-known literary critic,’ said Raymond West

Miss Greenshaw had clearly no reverence for literary critics She remained unimpressed

‘I consider it,’ said Miss Greenshaw, referring to the house, ‘as a enius Silly fools coo and live in a flat What would I do in a flat? It’s my home and I live in it,’ said Miss Greenshaw ‘Always have lived here’ She considered, brooding over the past ‘There were three of us Laura ive her anya baby Baby died too Nettie ran aith the riding master Papa cut her out of his will, of course Handsoood Don’t think Nettie was happy with hi They had a son He writes to me sometimes, but of course he isn’t a Greenshaw I’m the last of the Greenshaws’ She drew up her bent shoulders with a certain pride, and readjusted the rakish angle of the straw hat Then, turning, she said sharply,

‘Yes, Mrs Cresswell, what is it?’

Approaching theure that, seen side by side with Miss Greenshaw, seemed ludicrously dissimilar Mrs Cresswell had aupwards in h she had dressed her head to go as a French ed person was dressed in what ought to have been rustling black silk but was actually one of the shinier varieties of black rayon Although she was not a large woman, she had a well-developed and sumptuous bust Her voice when she spoke, was unexpectedly deep She spoke with exquisite diction, only a slight hesitation over words beginning with ‘h’ and the final pronunciation of theave rise to a suspicion that at soht have had trouble over dropping her h’s

‘The fish, madam,’ said Mrs Cresswell, ‘the slice of cod It has not arrived I have asked Alfred to go down for it and he refuses to do so’