At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. “That is where I got confused,” he said. “But—your people!” she gasped. 62 <8> A FIRST DATE WITH JOHN DIEDERMAYER The weekend began for her with that luxury of all luxuries, sleep. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose.
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