Birch was certainly not sober, and it was said by the police
that Miss Merton also had had more port wine than was good for her.
All this Brookshire knew, and none of it did Diana know. Since her
return she and Mrs. Colwood had lived so quietly within their own
borders that the talk of the neighborhood rarely reached her, and those
persons who came in contact with her were far too deeply touched by the
signs of suffering in the girl's face and manner to breathe a word that
might cause her fresh pain. Brookshire knew, through one or other of the
mysterious channels by which such news travels, that the two cousins
were uncongenial; that it was Fanny Merton who had revealed to Diana her
mother's history, and in an abrupt, unfeeling way; and that the two
girls were not now in communication. Fanny had been boarding with
friends in Bloomsbury, and was supposed to be returning to her family in
Barbadoes in the autumn.
The affair at the refreshment-room was to be heard of at Petty Sessions,
and would, therefore, get into the local papers. Mrs. Roughsedge felt
there was nothing for it; Diana must be told. But she hated her task.
On reaching Beechcote she noticed a fly at the door, and paused a moment
to consider whether her visit might not be inopportune.
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