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Updated: May 18, 2025
He must know more. It was a damp, misty morning, the fine frost had gone. He was going to Margaret to try and recover some reality out of the state that he was in. The recent incidents Craven's suspicions, the 5th of November evening, Bunning's alarm, the scene with Margaret bad dragged him for a time from that conviction that he was living in an unreal world.
It seemed ultimately to hang round that dreadful evening when they had been together; it was almost -although this was absurd as though Bunning knew; but, in spite of the certain assurance of his ignorance Olva felt as he moved uneasily under Bunning's gaze that the man himself was making some claim upon him.
Lawrence gripped Bunning's fingers, nodded to Bunning's stumbling words and smiled genially. Bunning got to the door, blinked upon them both from behind his glasses and was gone muttering something about "work . . . letters to write." "Rum feller," said Lawrence, and dismissed him with a chuckle.
The man looked up Bunning's right hand went up to his cap in the old familiar fashion; that was how, for many a long year of service, he had saluted his superiors. There was nothing very awe-compelling about the person whom the caretaker thus greeted with so much punctilious ceremony. He was a little, somewhat insignificant-looking man at first sight.
Oh, I've heard talk men in high office, like me, hears a deal. Why, I've heard it said that he's been heard to say, in private, that it was high time to abolish me!" Bunning's mouth opened a little. He was a man of simple nature, and the picture of Hathelsborough without Spizey and his livery appalled him. "Bless me!" he exclaimed. "To be sure!" said Spizey. "It's beyond comprehension!
Here now was the result of his having pulled himself together. Olva could see that the man bad made up his mind to something, and that, further, he was resolved to keep his purpose secret. It was probably the first occasion in Bunning's life of such resolution.
On its west side there is a back door to the bank house; another into Bunning's rooms on the basement of the Moot Hall; a third into the Police Office, also in that basement; a fourth into the rear of Dr. Wellesley's house. On the opposite side of the lane the east there is nothing but St. Lawrence's Church and churchyard. St.
"I'll come, if you won't mind sitting down and smoking for a quarter of an hour, while I finish this have a drink, will you?" Bunning's consternation at Olva's acceptance was amusing. He dropped his cap, stopped to pick it up, gasped. That Dune should really come! "You'll come?" he spluttered out. Never in his wildest imaginings had he fancied such a thing.
I could tell, for instance, that he was in a temper which I should call furious. I overheard all that was said. He was wanting to know as they entered the room how she had got there. She replied that she had watched Mrs. Bunning out of her house from amongst the bushes in St. Lawrence churchyard, and had then slipped in at Bunning's back door, being absolutely determined to see him.
In his heart was the uneasy knowledge that had Dune proposed staying there in his rooms and talking instead of going to Little St. Agnes and listening to the Reverend Med. Tetloe, he would have stayed. This was not right, it was not Christian. The world gaped below Bunning's heavy feet. At last Dune said: "I'm ready, let's go." They went out. Little St.
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