Her father, a Colonel of the old school, had been particular about deportment.
The present generation was shamelessly lax - in their carriage, and in every other way...
Enveloped in an aura of righteousness and unyielding principles, Miss Brent sat in her crowded third-class carriage and triumphed over its discomfort and its heat.
Every one made such a fuss over things nowadays!
They wanted injections before they had teeth pulled - they took drugs if they couldn't sleep - they wanted easy chairs and cushions and the girls allowed their figures to slop about anyhow and lay about half naked on the beaches in summer. Miss Brent's lips set closely.
She would like to make an example of certain people. She remembered last year's summer holiday.
This year, however, it would be quite different.
Indian Island... Mentally she reread the letter which she had already read so many times.
Dear Miss Brent,
I do hope you remember me?
We were together at Bellhaven Guest House in August some years ago, and we seemed to have so much in common.
I am starting a guest house of my own on an island off the coast of Devon.
I think there is really an opening for a place where there is good plain cooking and a nice old-fashioned type of person.
None of this nudity and gramophones half the night.
I shall be very glad if you could see your way to spending your summer holiday on Indian Island - quite free - as my guest.
Would early in August suit you?
Perhaps the 8th.
Yours sincerely. U.N. -
What was the name?
The signature was rather difficult to read.
Emily Brent thought impatiently: "So many people write their signatures quite illegibly."
She let her mind run back over the people at Bellhaven.
She had been there two summers running.
There had been that nice middle-aged woman - Mrs. - Mrs. - now what was her name? - her father had been a Canon.
And there had been a Miss Olton - Ormen - No, surely it was Oliver!
Yes - Oliver.
Indian Island!
There had been things in the paper about Indian Island - something about a film star - or was it an American millionaire?
Of course often those places went very cheap - islands didn't suit everybody.
They thought the idea was romantic but when they came to live there they realized the disadvantages and were only too glad to sell.
Emily Brent thought to herself: "I shall be getting a free holiday at any rate."
With her income so much reduced and so many dividends not being paid, that was indeed something to take into consideration.
If only she could remember a little more about Mrs. - or was it Miss - Oliver?
V General Macarthur looked out of the carriage window.
The train was just coming into Exeter where he had to change.
Damnable, these slow branch line trains!
This place, Indian Island, was really no distance at all as the crow flies.
He hadn't got it clear who this fellow Owen was. A friend of Spoof Leggard's, apparently - and of Johnny Dyer's.
- One or two of your old cronies are coming - would like to have a talk over old times.
Well, he'd enjoy a chat about old times.
He'd had a fancy lately that fellows were rather lighting shy of him.
All owing to that damned rumour!
By God, it was pretty hard - nearly thirty years ago now!
Armstrong had talked, he supposed.
Damned young pup!
What did he know about it?
Oh, well, no good brooding about these things!
One fancied things sometimes - fancied a fellow was looking at you queerly.
This Indian Island now, he'd be interested to see it.
A lot of gossip flying about.