I hate the thought of having to be nice to him--I wish Timmy wasn't his godson!" She spoke the words breathlessly, defiantly, standing before her old John's untidy writing table.
As she spoke, he rather nervously turned some papers over under his hand:--"I don't know that he behaved as badly as you think, my dear.
Neither of them had any money, and at that time he had no prospects." "He'd thrown away his prospects! Then I can't forgive him for his behaviour last year--never coming down to see us, I mean.

It was so--so ungrateful! Handsome presents don't make up for that sort of thing.

I used to long to send the things back." "I don't think you're fair," began Mr.Tosswill deprecatingly.

"He did write me a very nice letter, Janet, explaining that it was impossible for him to come." "Well, I suppose we must make the best of it--particularly as he says that he's come back to England for good." She went out of the room, and so into the garden--back to the border she had left unwillingly but at which she now glanced down with a sensation of disgust.

She felt thoroughly ruffled and upset--a very unusual condition for her to be in, for Janet Tosswill was an equable and happy-natured woman, for all her affectionate and sensitive heart.
She told herself that it was true the whole world had altered in the last nine years--everything had altered except Beechfield.