Mrs. Hignett was made
of sterner stuff. Having fortified herself with a late dinner, she
hired an automobile and set out on the cross-country journey. It was
only when the car, a genuine antique, had broken down three times in
the first ten miles, that it became evident to her that it would be much
too late to go to Windles that night, and she directed the driver to take
her instead to the "Blue Boar" in Windlehurst, where she arrived, tired
but thankful to have reached it at all, at about eleven o'clock.
At this point many, indeed most, women, having had a tiring journey,
would have gone to bed: but the familiar Hampshire air and the
knowledge that half an hour's walking would take her to her beloved
home acted on Mrs. Hignett like a restorative. One glimpse of Windles
she felt that she must have before she retired for the night, if only
to assure herself that it was still there. She had a cup of coffee and
a sandwich brought to her by the night-porter, whom she had roused from
sleep, for bedtime is early in Windlehurst, and then informed him that
she was going for a short walk and would ring when she returned.
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