The next day dawning fair and warm, Arthur rose early and set off for a walk around the village. It seemed a crime to be cooped up in the inn on such a fine day—all the more so since lurking in the back of his mind was the not insignificant worry that he might be subject to more of Mrs Ives’ genial insinuations.
Having set off at a brisk pace to explore the fields and farmlands, however, he before long began to regret his impetuosity. His Oxfords had given him blisters, and his nose was streaming at an alarming pace. Arthur was unutterably relieved to make it back to the parish church, in whose cool and sombre interior he found sanctuary of a sort. He was dismayed, however, to find himself announcing his arrival with a monstrous sneeze that fairly rattled the chandelier.
“Bless you!” pro
