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Updated: May 3, 2025
I thanked Heaven I had got rid of the aquascutum, for the August afternoon was warm and my pace was not leisurely. When I was in secluded ground I ran, and when anyone was in sight I walked smartly. As I went I reflected that Bradfield would see the end of my adventures. The police knew that I was there and would watch the stations and hunt me down if I lingered in the place.
I can remember, for example, that years ago the name of Bradfield used to strike with a causeless familiarity upon my ear; and since then, as you know, the course of my life has flowed through it. And so when I first saw Winnie La Force in the railway carriage, before I had spoken to her or knew her name, I felt an inexplicable sympathy for and interest in her.
"It's hard to believe that," said Staniford, with a smile. Lydia looked at him. "Oh, I wasn't born in South Bradfield. I was ten years old when I went there to live." "Where were you born, Miss Blood?" he asked. "In California. My father had gone out for his health, but he died there." "Oh!" said Staniford.
"That is much better," remarked Staniford, "than being younger than you look. I am twenty-eight, and people take me for thirty-four. I'm a prematurely middle-aged man. I wish you would tell me, Miss Blood, a little about South Bradfield. I've been trying to make out whether I was ever there. I tramped nearly everywhere when I was a student. What sort of people are they there?"
Well, it was nearly six o'clock, and evening was just creeping in when we drew up in Bradfield Station. He roared with delight when he saw me, wrung my hand, and slapped me enthusiastically upon the shoulder. "My dear chap!" said he. "We'll clear this town out. I tell you, Munro, we won't leave a doctor in it.
In connection with the history of the use of marl in agriculture may be cited the tender tribute which Arthur Young recorded on the tombstone of his wife in Bradfield Church.
Her father was a music-teacher, whose failing health had obliged him to give up his profession, and who had taken the traveling agency of a parlor organ manufactory for the sake of the out-door life. His business had brought him to South Bradfield, where he sold an organ to Deacon Latham's church, and fell in love with his younger daughter.
As the failure of this embankment was, as we all know, productive of such terrible consequences, it may be of interest to enter a little more fully into the details of its construction. It was situated at Bradfield, six or seven miles from Sheffield, and at several hundred feet higher level.
"There's my uncle, Sir Alexander Munro, Lismore House, Dublin," said I. "He would be happy to answer any inquiry, and so would my friend Dr. Cullingworth of Bradfield." I brought him down with both barrels. I could see it by his eyes and the curve of his back. "I have no doubt that that will be quite satisfactory," said he. "Perhaps you would kindly sign the agreement."
Now I could see an explanation for much which had puzzled me at Bradfield. Those sudden fits of ill temper, the occasional ill-concealed animosity of Cullingworth did they not mark the arrival of each of my mother's letters? I was convinced that they did.
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