— 32 —The day of the inquest Mrs. Sacret entered the glasshouses from the garden door. It was agreeable to leave the autumn damp for the close warm air. The plants hung neglected in the wire baskets, the yellow, sapless leaves clinging to the flaccid stems of creepers unknown to the curious woman, some pots on the shelves showing crinkled blooms, others curling in contentive luxuriance. The widow wondered what would become of the conservatory—what, indeed, of the Old Priory? Probably it would be sold—Sir John Curle would surely never tolerate this hideous place. Pausing to breathe the genial atmosphere Mrs. Sacret considered the changed situation. Susan was free. Without scandal or trouble she could, after a decent interval, marry her wealthy baronet and gracefully take up a new existence
