“And in that I quite agree with her,” said a voice behind; Mrs. Thornbury had overheard the last few words about not liking ginger. “It’s associated in my mind with a horrid old aunt of ours (poor thing, she suffered dreadfully, so it isn’t fair to call her horrid) who used to give it to us when we were small, and we never had the courage to tell her we didn’t like it. We just had to put it out in the shrubbery—she had a big house near Bath.”