'Have you been living here long?'

'A good while now. Yes, let me see, seven years-eight years. Yes, yes it must be more than eight years.' She sighed. 'One loses touch with things. And people too. Any relations I have left live abroad.'

'That must be rather sad.'

'No, not really. I didn't care for them very much. Indeed, I didn't even know them well. I had a bad illness-a very bad illness-and I was alone in the world, so they thought it was better for me to live in a place like this. I think I'm very lucky to have come here. They are so kind and thoughtful. And the gardens are really beautiful. I know myself that I shouldn't like to be living on my own because I do get very confused sometimes, you know. Very confused.' She tapped her forehead.

'I get confused here. I mix things up. I don't always remember properly the things that have happened.'

'I'm sorry,' said Tuppence. 'I suppose one always has to have something, doesn't one?'

'Some illnesses are very painful. We have two poor women living here with very bad rheumatoid arthritis. They suffer terribly. So I think perhaps it doesn't matter so much if one gets, well, just a little confused about what happened and where, and who it was, and all that sort of thing, you know. At any rate it's not painful physically.'

'No. I think perhaps you're quite right,' said Tuppence.

The door opened and a girl in a white overall came in with a little tray with a coffee pot on it and a plate with two biscuits, which she set down at Tuppence's side.

'Miss Packard thought you might care for a cup of coffee,' she said.

'Oh. Thank you,' said Tuppence.

The girl went out again and Mrs. Lancaster said, 'There, you see. Very thoughtful, aren't they?'

'Yes indeed.'

Tuppence poured out her coffee and began to drink it. The two women sat in silence for some time. Tuppence offered the plate of biscuits but the old lady shook her head.