Chapter Thirty-fiveMr. Tattlecombe took it hard. After saying that it was a blow but that he supposed it was the Lord’s will, he ran both hands through his hair, fixed round blue eyes upon William and Katharine, and observed that it didn’t matter, because he was past the three score years and ten already and it wouldn’t be for long. From there to a lonely deathbed, with no one to close his eyes or so much as put up a stone, was an easy short cut.
At just what point in the proceedings it occurred to Katharine that he was enjoying himself, she didn’t quite know, but she found herself holding his hand and saying, ‘Dear Mr. Tattlecombe, please don’t talk like that or I shall cry.’
Abel was distinctly gratified. He sat there as pink and healthy as a baby with his grey hair all fuzzed up and s
