340She couldn??t say any more for a while.
long flagged passage, passed through a swing-door that must once have been covered with green baize, and thence across the hall to the vicar's study. It was a cool and restful room despite its shabby furniture and musty odour.
??Well, he doesn??t exercise his brain very much,?? said Oswald.
By John Trotwood Moore
Shed been gone but a minit whin a stout miss Flimflam cums in in a hurry. She reeds frum a paper in her hand:
So much for that. At least he had made one simple decision on his own, he thought with grim humor. To that extent he had reestablished his mastery of his own fate, and it made him feel a touch better.
Rafella's heart went out to him. All the little confidences of her boy admirers seemed trivial in comparison with the unfortunate experiences of this man of the world. She was well aware that he was ill-spoken of by the more scrupulous members of the community; but she felt convinced he was misjudged, and even if there should be truth in such reports as she had heard, surely sympathy and kindness from a woman who was good was all he needed to enable him to make amends for everything, however regrettable, that might have happened in the past.
It used to be very charming to go to one of these cathedrals early each autumn, drink cider, listen to music six hours a day, walk by the river, have jolly “rags” in the hotel at night, and come home again at the end of a week or ten days. September is a tired month, I always think ... if not tired, a little languorous.... It has many days in which one wants to walk about just quietly, enjoying being alive. It would be wrong to fuss and work really hard. I suppose that in all those wonderful places in which I have spent so many happy weeks—Worcester, Lincoln, Gloucester, Hereford, Norwich—people ruminate and browse at all times. Certainly I have seen them browsing in herds in September days. I once watched the Bishop of Hereford browsing. He stood perfectly still and seemed to be contemplating and measuring and gently wondering about the growth of a healthy nasturtium.
I wrote to Mr. Constable, then Secretary to the Duke of York, of the resolution of my comrades, and, by return of post, I received orders from His Royal Highness to repair to Boulogne, which I immediately complied with, accompanied by Father O'Rourke.
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