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Updated: June 2, 2025
Men nodded sleepily in their chairs, conversation had almost ceased, when suddenly and without any apparent reason Brockett swung about on his heel and faced the locked door. His whole expression betokened a feverish interest. The effect of this was immediate.
He had suddenly, as was natural in him, forgotten the dismal approach to the house, the overwhelming appearance of Mrs. Brockett, his recent loneliness. Here, at last, was a little spot that he could, for a time, at any rate, call his own. He could come, at any time of the evening and shut his door, and be alone here, master of everything that he surveyed.
Brockett, but of course I couldn't hear of anything like that." For the third time that evening he had to fight against a disposition to blow his nose and be absurd. They were, both of them, increasingly grim with every word that they spoke and any outside observer would have supposed that they were the deadliest of enemies.
Brockett straightened her dress with her beautiful hands in the old familiar way "But you're not looking very hearty yourself, Mr. Peter." "Oh! I'm all right," he answered smiling; but she shook her head after him as she watched him go up the stairs. And then he was surprised. He came into Norah Monogue's room and found her sitting up by her window, looking better than he had ever seen her.
No sign now of that Peter evident enough in the Brockett days morose, silent, sometimes oppressed by a sense of unreasoned catastrophe, stepping into his bookshop and out again as though all the world were his enemy. Peter knew now that he was loved.
I know several cases where a change would be all for the better, but in your case there wasn't a trace of staleness. I do hope you won't think me presumptuous in saying this. I couldn't help myself. I must congratulate you, too, on the choir. How do you find Brockett as an organist?"
"Oh, I'll come in a week or two and see what's happening I'll be on a paper by then probably. I say, I don't want the others to know. I'll have supper with them as usual and just tell Mother Brockett afterwards. I don't want to have to say good-bye lots of times. Well" he moved off awkwardly towards the door "You've been most tremendously good to me." "Rot, Peter: Don't forget me!" "Forget you!
Brockett is alarming at first, and we none of us " she looked round her with a little laugh "can strike the on-looker as very cheerful company. But really Madame has a heart of gold you'll find that out in time. She's had a terribly hard time of it herself, and I believe it's a great struggle to keep things going now. But she's helped all kinds of people in her time."
"I suppose I've got a headache after all that row with Clare," Peter thought as he climbed off the omnibus. He realised, as he came into the Bloomsbury square, and saw Mrs. Brockett gloomily waiting for him, that the adventures of his life were most strangely bound together. Not for an instant did he seem to be able to escape from any one of them.
Brockett is a very terrifying but lovable woman," said the Signor darkly, and Peter, whose spirits had sunk lower and ever lower as he stumbled through the dark streets, felt, at the sound of this threatening prophecy, entirely miserable. No. 72 is certainly the grimiest of the houses in Bennett Square.
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