The realisation that actually no more than a month had elapsed since her
arrival at Silverquay amazed her. It seemed almost incredible, so swiftly
and surely had the new life built itself up round her, with quick, deft
touches--a friend here, an adopted custom there, new interests and
occupations that had already become an accepted part of the day's routine.
Ann was the last person in the world to recognise how much of this was due
to her own individual personality. That eager vitality of hers went
half-way to meet life. She did not wait supinely for things to happen, but
instinctively looked round to see what she could herself accomplish. As she
had laughingly told Eliot Coventry, she was not in the least an idle
person--and the newly-wired chicken-run and hen-coops already established
in a corner of a field adjoining the Cottage garden testified to the
veracity of the statement. It was a small thing, perhaps, but its prompt
achievement was characteristic.
Equally characteristic were the new friendships she was forming. Where some
people would find only neighbours, Ann's spontaneous, warm-hearted nature
discovered friends. Brian Tempest already counted as one, and her
acquaintance with Cara Hilyard, begun so unconventionally, was rapidly
deepening into a pleasant intimacy.
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