CHAPTER SIXTEENFleur, looking for Barham, found him not in the pantry but in the big dining room with all the silver-plate spread out on the table.
“Sir Norman has telephoned and asked me to tell you that Melford was badly bombed last night,” Fleur told him. “We may be asked to house some of the homeless.”
Barham put down his silver brush decisively.
“We don’t want them here and that’s that, making a mess of the carpets, mucking up the place.”
“But, Barham,” Fleur exclaimed, “just think of what they are suffering. I could hear the bombs in the distance all night and I expect they kept you awake too and there was a great red glow in the sky.”
“I’m really sorry for them,” Barham admitted grudgingly, “at the same time there’s other places better suited to take them in than The Priory.”
