CHAPTER SEVENAs Richard bounded back down the steep path, his rucksack filled with many sketches of the beautiful ruined building that had risen out of the mist, his main worry now was how he was going to pass another meal in the taciturn company of Mrs. Oldroyd.
‘How can I get her to speak to me?’ he wondered. ‘I could ask if there is a Mr. Oldroyd and then she might talk to me about him – but what if there isn’t? If she is a widow, she’ll be upset and then it could be days before she says another word to me!’
When he arrived at the tiny cottage, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of boiled ham, whilst Mrs. Oldroyd was busy stirring something on the stove.
“That smells quite marvellous!” enthused Richard.
Mrs. Oldroyd nodded to him, just as she had done when he left that
