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Updated: June 7, 2025
Of course a crowd had already collected, dark as the street was. 'Hadn't we better take him over to the Bowers'? asked Jim. 'Yes, it's old Mr. Boddy! cried a voice. 'He lives at Mrs. Bower's. 'I know that very well, said Ackroyd, 'but it's no good taking him there. Lend a hand, Jim; see, he's coming round a bit. And he added, muttering, 'I expect he's starved to death, that's about it.
Do you know anything of her? 'Why, yes. I've heard of her often from Miss Trent. Isn't she a good deal with Ackroyd? 'Can't say. She's not a bad lot. She's going to take my Bessie down to Eastbourne at the end of the week. 'But why don't you go yourself? It would do you good. Bunce shrugged his shoulders. 'No, I can't go myself.
Egremont still stood for a few minutes before the fire; then he extinguished the gas, locked the door behind him, and went forth into the street singing to himself. Gilbert turned into Paradise Street, which was close at hand. He had decided to call and ask for Ackroyd on his way home. The latter had not been at work that day, and was perhaps ailing; for some time he had seemed out of sorts.
'We have much yet to talk of, said Egremont, as he rose, 'but it gets late and I mustn't keep you longer. Will you come here some evening when there is no lecture and let us turn over our ideas together? I shall begin at once to think of the library. It will make a centre for us, won't it? And remember Ackroyd. You are intimate with him?
It had needed only the first ten minutes of the first lecture to put him at his ease with regard to Egremont's claims to stand forward as a teacher; the preliminary meeting, indeed, had removed the suspicions suggested by Ackroyd. To him these evenings were pure enjoyment. He delighted in this subject, and had an inexpressible pleasure in listening continuously to the speech of a cultivated man.
'I don't know how to begin to tell you, Miss Trent, Ackroyd said, when he stopped and turned towards her. 'It's your sister I have to speak about. She had foreseen truly. Her heart sank. 'What can you have to say about my sister, Mr. Ackroyd? she asked in a hard voice. 'I'm not surprised that you speak in that way.
Presently they were sitting at a little distance from each other, each waiting for the other to speak. 'When is it to be? Ackroyd said at length, bending forward. 'I don't know. Is it really to be? 'Why not? Of course it is. Totty had felt colder to him than ever before, since she had entered this room. The strangeness of the surroundings affected her disagreeably.
Ackroyd laughed. 'Have you heard any talk, he asked presently, 'about lectures by a Mr. Egremont? He's a son of Bower's old governor. 'No, what lectures? 'Bower tells me he's a young fellow just come from Oxford or Cambridge, and he's going to give some free lectures here in Lambeth. 'Political? 'No. Something to do with literature.
An' she stood before me, a little thing that high. I didn't think she'd be so tall. She growed wonderful from twelve to sixteen. It's me has to look up to her now. A customer entered the shop, and Mrs. Bower went out. 'I don't think Thyrza's as much a favourite with any one as her sister, said Ackroyd, looking at Mary Bower, who had been silent all this time.
Ackroyd told me so yesterday. 'And her sister's at work too? 'Safe enough. 'Is the workmen there still? 'No, they're all out. Safe enough. Mr. Bower seemed to find a satisfaction in repeating the significant phrase. He chuckled disagreeably. 'It looks queer, remarked his wife, with a certain contemptuousness. 'It looks uncommon queer. I wonder whether old Mrs.
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