Agnes Buttle, a middle-aged spinster accused by Viola, herself the recipient of an anonymous letter ("Leave him alone or I'll kill you"), of writing the letters. However, as it soon turns out, Agnes Buttle has had other reasons for being desperate, first and foremost the Reverend Chisholm's abominable behaviour. To further his career in the Church, he made advances to Buttle, whose uncle was a bishop, although she is more than ten years his senior. When that uncle died, he dropped her. Chisholm has also fallen in love with Gloria Perkins and only proposed to Viola to avert attention from his association with Gloria. Viola considers it an important step in her journey from "green girl" to full-fledged adult when she breaks off her engagement and calls Chisholm a "poor little bastard". At the beginning of April, shortly before Viola's 18th birthday, the Kembles finally move to Sark. By now Viola has realised that she loves Johnnie Wrighton, but her mother already has other plans for her. Viola is to get a job in Berkshire as a receptionist for a distant uncle of hers who is a GP there. That way, Clementine Kemble assures her, she will meet many eligible young men to choose from. Only by means of a "ruse"—she tells her little sister that she got pregnant from a day tripper to the island—can she eventually convince her mother, who for an awful moment loses her poise and fears that it actually might be true, that they are now on the same footing. At the end of the novel Johnnie Wrighton proposes to Viola, and Clementine Kemble not only gives her consent but also surprises them by giving them The Old Vicarage as a wedding present. Quotes Viola discussing her planned marriage to Chisholm with the Vicar: "How do your parents feel about this?" "They don't know, yet. But they won't mind." He said earnestly, "I wouldn't be too sure of that. You're awfully young, you know." "I'm seventeen. Juliet was only thirteen." "My dear child, look what happened to her." Viola kissing Johnnie Wrighton for the first time: "I moved closer, and pressed my lips tenderly against his; at last we began to stroll back to the car, our arms round each other's waists, my head on his shoulder, his lips in my hair. The moon went with us, jigging over the treetops, leering a bit now,