Chapter 22 twenty two

.22. It was getting dark.Miss Marple went to the library window with the knitting in her hand. She looked out the glass window and saw Patty Fortescu walking up and down on the terrace outside.Miss Marple opened the window to call her. "Come in, boy, come in. I'm sure you'll be cold and wet outside without your coat on." Patty obeyed obediently.She came in and closed the window, and turned on the two lights. "Yes, it's not very nice this afternoon," she said, sitting on the sofa next to Miss Marple. "What are you knitting?" "Oh, it's just a little slip coat—babies, you know. I always say there's nothing wrong with young mothers having extra slip coats for their babies. It's a size two. I always knit a size two. Babies grow Hurry up, you won't be able to wear the first size soon."

Patty stretched her long legs over to the fire. She said: "It's a nice day here today. Fire and lamps, and you knitting clothes for the babies. It's so cozy; so homely, as England should be." Miss Marple said, "That's the way England is. There aren't many places like Yew House, my boy." Patty said, "I guess that's a good thing. I don't believe this is a happy home. I don't believe anyone is happy here, even though people here spend a lot of money and have everything." Miss Marple agreed, "No, I don't think it's a happy home."

Patty said: "I guess Adele might have been happier. Of course, I've never met her, so I don't know. But Jennifer is poor, and Ellen is madly in love with a young man - she probably knows him in her heart." Don't love her. Oh, I want to get away from this place!" She looked at Miss Marple and smiled suddenly. "Did you know that Lance told me to stay around you as much as possible. He seemed to think I was safer that way." "Your husband is no fool." "No, Lance isn't a fool—in some ways. But I wish he'd told me what I'm afraid of. One thing seems obvious. Someone in this house is crazy, because you don't know how a crazy person's mind works." , so craziness is often scary. You don't know what they're going to do next."

"Poor boy," said Miss Marple. "Oh, I'm fine, really. Now I have to be strong." Miss Marple said softly: "Son, you've had a lot of misfortune, haven't you?" "Oh, I had good times too. I had a great childhood in Ireland, riding horses and hunting, and the house was big and empty, very airy and sunny. If you had a happy childhood, nobody can take it away, yes. No? Afterwards—when I grew up—things always seemed to go wrong. I guess it was the war at first." "Your ex-husband was an Air Force pilot, right?" "Yes. We've only been married for a month, and Don's plane was shot down."

She stared at the fire ahead. "At first I wanted to kill myself. It all seemed so unfair, so cruel. But—then—I grew to think it was best. Don was good in battle, brave and jovial. He had all the qualities a war requires. . But I always feel that peace is not for him.He had a kind of -- oh, how do I say it? —a haughty defiance.He refuses to adapt or settle down.He has to fight something.He's -- oh, kind of antisocial.No, he refused to adapt to the environment. " "Son, you can see this. You're really smart." Miss Marple looked down at the knitting, picked up a stitch, and counted in a low voice: "Three flat stitches, two back stitches, skip one stitch, and weave together." Then he said, "Son, where is your second husband?"

"Freddie? Freddie shot himself." "Oh, my God, it's sad, what a tragedy." Patty said, "We're very happy together. After about two years of marriage, it's starting to come to me that Freddie doesn't—oh, don't think he's straight. I'm starting to see a few scams, but we both don't seem to think it matters. You Got it, Freddie loves me, and I love him. I try not to get the truth. I guess I'm too cowardly, but I can't change him, you know. I can't change anyone else." Miss Marple said, "No, you can't change people."

"He was the one I accepted, loved, and married, so I always felt that I had to -- put up with everything. Then things didn't go well, and he couldn't face the reality, so he shot himself. After he died, I went to Kenya, lived there with some friends. I couldn't stay in London and face all—all the people who knew. Then I met Lance in Kenya." Her expression softened.She continued to look at Sparks, and Miss Marple looked at her.Patty turned her head and said, "Miss Marple, tell me what do you think of Percival?" "Oh, I rarely see him. Usually at breakfast, that's all.

I don't think he likes me living here very much. " Patty laughed suddenly. "He's stingy, you know. Very stingy with money. Lance says he's always been. Jennifer complains about it too. He goes through Miss Douf's household bills and whines about every item, but Douf Mademoiselle stands her ground. She's a pretty remarkable person, don't you think?" "Yes, that's right. She reminds me of Mrs. Latimer at our St. Mary's Ranch. She ran the Women's Volunteer Service and the Girl Scouts, really, she was in everything. It took us a good five years to find out— —Oh, I shouldn't gossip. It's never more annoying to have people tell you about places and people you haven't seen and don't know. Excuse me, boy."

"Isn't St. Mary's Ranch a nice village?" "Son, I don't know what you mean by a good village. It's a beautiful village. There are good people in it, and there are very unlikable characters. That place, like any other village, has had quite strange things. Human nature is everywhere. Pretty much, isn't it?" Patty said, "You used to go upstairs and see Miss Lambsburton, didn't you? She really freaked me out." "Scares you? Why?" "Because I think she's crazy. I think she's religious. You don't think she might be—really—mad?"

"How crazy?" "Oh, Miss Marple, you know what I mean. She sits there and never goes out, thinking about crime all day long. She may come to feel that it is her life's calling to execute the trial." "Is this your husband's idea?" "I don't know what Lance thinks. He won't tell me. But I'm sure of one thing—he believes the murderer was crazy, and someone in the family. Oh, I think Percival is perfectly normal. Jennifer Stupid, rather pathetic, and just a little nervous; Ellen was the weird, cranky, nervous girl. She was madly in love with her boyfriend and never admitted that he wanted to marry her for the money."

"You think he wants to marry her for money?" "Yes, I think so. Don't you?" Miss Marple said: "I'm quite sure. It's like Iris in our village married Marion Bart, the daughter of a rich ironman. That's right. People like Iris and Gerald Wright get pretty nasty when they marry poor girls for love. They get mad at themselves for being stupid and take it out on her. But if they marry Wealthy girls will continue to respect them." Patty frowned and said, "I don't think it's someone from outside. No wonder—no wonder the atmosphere is like this. Everyone's spying on each other. It's going to happen again soon—" Miss Marple said, "There will be no more murders. At least I think so." "You can't be sure." "As a matter of fact, I'm quite sure. You know, the murderer has achieved his goal." "his?" "Oh, his or hers. Saying 'him' is just a matter of convenience." "You said his or her goal, which kind?" Miss Marple shook her head—she wasn't sure herself.