Okay I really enjoyed this book for perfectly idiosyncratic reasons which may not apply to others. It was written in the forties, in England, and its a perfectly delightful evocation of a particular class in a particular time and place. I could practically smell the linoleum and tea and that odd over educated CofE conscience that requires one to extend great tolerance to others, while remaining highly critical of oneself. ( )

An interesting novel - very atmospheric and character-driven. The main character is a lady of "a certain age" who wants badly to be independent and strong, but has irrational fears of living alone. She meets a very accommodating young man working at a hotel, and convinces him to come work for her at her estate. Very slowly he becomes more and more insinuated into her life, and she depends more and more on his care.

There was a slowly growing sense of tension and suffocation in this story that put me more and more on edge - to the point that I had to force myself to pick it up. That feeling is a tribute to the writing, as Norah Lofts is an excellent writer. But I don't like feeling tense and suffocated, and I don't think I'll read this one again. ( )