Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. She felt much better. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood.
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