together,” and then said, aloud: “And your
second husband, my dear?”
“Freddy? Freddy shot himself.”
“Oh dear. How very sad. What a tragedy.”
“We were very happy together,” said Pat.
“I began to realise, about two years after we
were married, that Freddy wasn’t–well,
wasn’t always straight. I began to find out the
sort of things that were going on. But it
didn’t seem to matter, between us two, that
is. Because, you see, Freddy loved me and I
loved him. I tried not to know what was going
on. That was cowardly of me, I suppose, but
I couldn’t have changed him, you know. You
can’t change people.”
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“No,” said Miss Marple, “you can’t
change people.”
“I’d taken him and loved him and married
him for what he was, and I sort of felt that I
just had to—put up with it. Then things went
wrong and he couldn’t face it, and he shot
himself. After he died I went out to Kenya to
stay with some friends there. I couldn’t stop
on in England and go on meeting all—all the
old crowd that knew about it all. And out in
Kenya I met Lance.” Her face changed and
softened. She went on looking into the fire,
and Miss Marple looked at her. Presently Pat
turned her head and said. “Tell me. Miss
Marple, what do you really think ofPercival?”
“Well, I’ve not seen very much of him. Just
at breakfast usually. That’s all. I don’t think
he very much likes my being here.”
Pat laughed suddenly.
“He’s mean, you know. Terribly mean
about money. Lance says he always was.
Jennifer complains of it, too. Goes over the
housekeeping accounts with Miss Dove.
Complaining of every item. But Miss Dove
manages to hold her own. She’s really rather
a wonderful person. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, indeed. She reminds me of Mrs.
Latimer in my own village, St. Mary Mead.
263
She ran the W.V.S., you know, and the Girl
Guides, and indeed, she ran practically everything
there. It wasn’t for quite five years that
we discovered that–oh, but I mustn’t gossip.
Nothing is more boring than people talking
to you about places and people whom you’ve
never seen and know nothing about. You
must forgive me, my dear.”
“Is St. Mary Mead a very nice village?”
“Well, I don’t know what you would call a
nice village, my dear. It’s quite a pretty village. There are some nice people living in
it and some extremely unpleasant people as
well. Very curious things go on there just as
in any other village. Human nature is much
the same everywhere, is it not?”
“You go up and see Miss Ramsbottom a
good deal, don’t you?” said Pat. “Now she really frightens me.”
“Frightens you? Why?”
“Because I think she’s crazy. I think she’s
got religious mania. You don’t think she
could be– really– mad, do you?”
“In what way, mad?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Miss Marple, well enough. She sits up there and never goes
out and broods about sin. Well, she might
264
have felt in the end that it was her mission in
life to execute judgment.”
“Is that what your husband thinks?”
“I don’t know what Lance thinks. He
won’t tell me. But I’m quite sure of one
thing—that he believes that it’s someone
who’s mad, and it’s someone in the family.
Well, Percival’s sane enough, I should say.
Jennifer’s just stupid and rather pathetic.
She’s a bit nervy but that’s all, and Elaine is
one of these queer, tempestuous, tense girls.
She’s desperately in love with this young man
of hers and she’ll never admit to herself for
a moment that he’s marrying her for her
money.”
“You think he is marrying her for money?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t you think so?”
“I should say quite certainly,” said Miss
Marple. “Like young Ellis who married
Marion Bates, the rich ironmonger’s daughter.
She was a very plain girl and absolutely
besotted about him. However, it turned out
quite well. People like young Ellis and this
Gerald Wright are only really disagreeable
when they’ve married a poor girl for love.
They are so annoyed with themselves for