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Updated: June 3, 2025
Mrs. Bentinck-Major was thinking of the Brandon scandal, but it was one of her habits never to let her left-hand voice know what her right-hand brain was doing. Secretly she often wondered about sexual things what people really did, whether they enjoyed what they did, and whether she would have enjoyed the same things had life gone that way with her instead of leading her to Bentinck-Major.
On the right was Brandon's seat; on the left Witheram, seriously approaching the business of the day as though his very life depended upon it; then Bentinck-Major, his hands looking as though they had been manicured; next to him Ryle, laughing obsequiously at some fashionable joke that Bentinck-Major had delivered to him; opposite to him Foster, looking as though he had not had a meal for a week and badly shaved with a cut on his chin; and next to him Ronder.
Combermere and Brandon and old Bentinck-Major and Mrs. Sampson said to themselves in so many words, "We will keep this to ourselves and defend its walls against every new invader, every new idea, new custom, new impulse. We will all be butchered rather than allow one old form, tradition, superstition to go!" It was not as conscious as that, but in effect it was that that it came to.
They discussed the weather, once and again eyeing the door apprehensively. Bentinck-Major took Ronder aside: "My wife and I have been wondering whether you'd honour us by dining with us on the 25th," he said. "A cousin of my wife's, Lady Caroline Holmesby, is to be staying with us just then. It would give us such great pleasure if you and Miss Ronder would join us that evening.
"Why, really, Canon," said Bentinck-Major, wishing to give the poor man encouragement. "No, but I mean what I say. I don't consider myself a stupid man, but when one comes fresh into a place like this there are many things that one can't know, and that one must learn from some one wiser than oneself if one's to do any good." "Oh, really, Canon," Bentinck-Major repeated.
Bentinck-Major lived at the top of Orange Street, in a fine house with a garden, and Foster lived in one of four tumble-down buildings behind the Cathedral, known from time immemorial as Canon's Yard. The afternoon of his visit was about three days after a dinner-party at the Castle.
"As there seems to be some difference of opinion in this matter," he said, "I think we had better vote upon it. Those in favour of the roller being granted to the School please signify." Ronder, Foster and Witheram raised their hands. "And those against?" said the Dean. Brandon, Ryle and Bentinck-Major were against.
He came hurriedly, a number of papers in one hand, wearing just the old anxious look of important care that they knew so well. And yet how changed he was! Instead of moving at once to his place at the long table he hesitated, looked at Bentinck-Major, at Foster, then at Bond, half-puzzled, as though he had never seen them before. "I must apologise, gentlemen," he said, "for being late.
It was a fine thing, for instance, to observe Foster's scorn and contempt whilst Bentinck-Major explained his little idea about certain little improvements that he, as Chancellor, might naturally suggest, or Ryle's attitude of goodwill to all and sundry as he apologised for certain of Brockett's voluntaries and assured Brandon on one side that "something should be done about it," and agreed with Bentinck-Major on the other that it was indeed agreeable to hear sometimes music a little more advanced and original than one usually found in Cathedrals.
"You don't know how you've helped me," he said. "You've told me exactly what I wanted to know. Thank you so very much." Bentinck-Major looked gratified. He had, in fact, thoroughly enjoyed himself. "Oh, but you'll stay and have some tea, won't you?" "I'm afraid I can't do that. I've got a pretty busy afternoon still in front of me." "My wife will be so disappointed."
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