The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

If you’re really keen on George Eliot, why not get The Mill on the Floss in a cheap edition and read it.’

‘I suppose you never read such old out-of-date stuff, Miss Flora?’

‘You’re wrong, dr Sheppard. I love The Mill on the Floss.’

I was rather pleased to hear it. The things young women read nowadays and profess to enjoy positively frighten me.

‘You haven’t congratulated me yet, dr Sheppard,’ said Flora. ‘Haven’t you heard?’

She held out her left hand. On the third finger of it was an exquisitely set single pearl.

‘I’m going to marry Ralph, you know,’ she went on. ‘Uncle is very pleased. It keeps me in the family, you see.’

I took both her hands in mine.

‘My dear,’ I said, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’

‘We’ve been engaged for about a month,’ continued flora in her cool voice, ‘but it was only announced yesterday. uncle is going to do up cross-stones, and give it to us to live in, and we’re going to pretend to farm. really, we shall hunt all the winter, town for the season, and then go yachting.

I love the sea. And, of course, I shall take a great interest in the parish affairs, and attend all the Mothers’ Meetings.’

Just then Mrs Ackroyd rustled in, full of apologies for being late.

I am sorry to say I detest Mrs Ackroyd. She is all chains and teeth and bones. A most unpleasant woman. She has small pale flinty blue eyes, and however gushing her words may be, those eyes of hers always remain coldly speculative.

I went across to her, leaving Flora by the window.

She gave me a handful of assorted knuckles and rings to squeeze, and began talking volubly.

Had I heard about flora’s engagement? So suitable in every way. The dear young things had fallen in love at first sight. Such a perfect pair, he so dark and she so fair.

‘I can’t tell you, my dear dr Sheppard, the relief to a mother’s heart.’

Mrs Ackroyd sighed – a tribute to her mother’s heart, whilst her eyes remained shrewdly observant of me.

‘I was wondering. you are such an old friend of dear roger’s. We know how much he trusts to your judgment. So difficult for me – in my position as poor Cecil’s widow. But there are so many tiresome things – settlements, you know – all that. I fully believe that roger intends to make settlements upon dear Flora, but, as you know, he is just a leetle peculiar about money. Very usual, I’ve heard, amongst men who are captains of industry.