She's the smartest young lady in the village, an' not an atom of a snob.

No, no.
She isn't for Fred Elkin.

Before this murder cropped up everybody would have it that Mr.Grant would marry her." "How does the murder intervene ?" Robinson shifted uneasily in his chair.

He knew only too well that he himself had driven a wedge between the two.
"Steynholme's a funny spot, sir," he contrived to explain.

"Since it came out that Doris an' Mr.Grant were in the garden at The Hollies at half past ten on Monday night, without Mr.Martin knowin' where his daughter was, there's been talk.