Kathleen Morrison, on her return to London, was not prepared for the empty, echoing house, the loud thud of her footsteps on the uncarpeted stairs, the ghostly appearance of the linen-shrouded furniture. Her brother and sister-in-law, with whom she made her home, usually abandoned the seaside towards the end of August; these were already the first days of September. "Not before Tuesday week, Miss Kathleen," the one resentful housemaid-in-charge answered her enquiries; "the Missus said she'd written to you."…
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