Explore "Fire in the Thatch" by Edith Caroline Rivett on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Anne St Cyres was exactly what Macdonald had anticipated. Neat, self-contained and reliable looking, moreover “a bonnie lassie,” with a fresh skin, pretty hair, and her father’s blue eyes. Macdonald had never admired cosmetics, and he always tended to like a rosy-cheeked young woman who had the courage to ignore the temptations of perming and beauty-parlour experts—but Macdonald was growing into a real old stick in the eyes of those born since he first entered the Metropolitan Police in 1920.
“You know what my job is, Miss St Cyres,” said the C.I.D. man, “and since I’ve arrived on the scene rather late in the day, I shall need all the help I can get. Your father suggested that Mr. Vaughan didn’t see eye to eye with Mr. Gressingham on the matter of private property.”