"
"Only seventy thousand words!" Terence exclaimed.
"Yes, and one has to say something about everybody," Miss Allan added.
"That is what I find so difficult, saying something different about
everybody." Then she thought that she had said enough about herself, and
she asked whether they had come down to join the tennis tournament. "The
young people are very keen about it. It begins again in half an hour."
Her gaze rested benevolently upon them both, and, after a momentary
pause, she remarked, looking at Rachel as if she had remembered
something that would serve to keep her distinct from other people.
"You're the remarkable person who doesn't like ginger." But the kindness
of the smile in her rather worn and courageous face made them feel that
although she would scarcely remember them as individuals, she had laid
upon them the burden of the new generation.
"And in that I quite agree with her," said a voice behind; Mrs.
Thornbury had overheard the last few words about not liking ginger.
"It's associated in my mind with a horrid old aunt of ours (poor thing,
she suffered dreadfully, so it isn't fair to call her horrid) who used
to give it to us when we were small, and we never had the courage
to tell her we didn't like it. We just had to put it out in the
shrubbery--she had a big house near Bath."
They began moving slowly across the hall, when they were stopped by the
impact of Evelyn, who dashed into them, as though in running downstairs
to catch them her legs had got beyond her control.
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