She's found her right niche in life. A sergeant--"
"The army!" I ejaculated.
"Salvation Army," she explained merrily.
Frances exchanged a glance with me. I laughed too, for the information
took me by surprise. I cannot say why exactly, but I expected at least
to hear that the woman had met some dreadful end, not impossibly by
burning.
"And The Towers, now called the Rest House," Mabel chattered on, "seems
to me the most peaceful and delightful spot in England--"
"Really," I said politely.
"When I lived there in the old days--while you were there, perhaps,
though I won't be sure."
Mabel went on, "the story got abroad that it was haunted. Wasn't it odd?
A less likely place for a ghost I've never seen. Why, it had no
atmosphere at all." She said this to Frances, glancing up at me with a
smile that apparently had no hidden meaning. "Did you notice anything
queer about it when you were there?"
This was plainly addressed to me.
"I found it--er--difficult to settle down to anything," I said, after an
instant's hesitation. "I couldn't work there--"
"But I thought you wrote that wonderful book on the Deaf and Blind while
you stayed with me," she asked innocently.
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