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Updated: May 21, 2025
Hester found herself suddenly transplanted into the prose of life, emphasized by a long clerical coat and a bed of Brussels sprouts. "I missed you," said Mr. Gresley, with emphasis. "Where? When?" Hester's eyes had lost their fixed look and stared vacantly at him. Mr. Gresley tried to subdue his rising annoyance. Hester was acting, pretending not to understand, and he saw through it.
Mr. Gresley began to experience something of what Fräulein had been enduring all night. "She would certainly not go from my house to a Dissenter's," he said, stiffly. "You might have saved yourself the trouble of calling there, Fräulein." "She like Mr. and Mrs. Valsh. She gives them her book."
It generally needs to be a magnifying-glass to see a woman's friendship, and then they are only expedients till we arrive, Dick. You need not he jealous of Miss Gresley. Miss West will forget all about her when she is Mrs. Vernon." "She does not seem very keen about that," said Dick, grimly. "I'm only marking time. I'm no forwarder than I was."
Lady Susan Gresley died six months ago." "Great Scot! I never heard of it. And what has become of Hester? She is a kind of cousin of mine." "Miss Gresley has gone to live in the country a few miles from us, with her clergyman brother." "James Gresley. I remember him. He's a bad egg." "Now, Dick, are you in earnest, or are you talking nonsense about Miss West?" "I'm in earnest." He looked it.
He said he did not know Hester had written a book, and had never been consulted on the subject." The tears forced themselves out of Mr. Gresley's eyes. He was exhausted and overwrought. He sobbed against his wife's shoulder. "Wicked liar!" whispered Mrs. Gresley, into his parting. "Wicked, wicked man! Oh, James, I never thought the Archdeacon could have behaved like that!" "Nor I," gasped Mr.
"For the last seven years I've done my twelve hours a day, and I've come to think more of what a man gets through with his hands than the sentiments which he can wheeze out after a heavy meal. But Mr. Gresley has asked me to tell you what I know about drink, as I have seen a good many samples of it in Australia."
"She can't meet me fairly," said Mr. Gresley to himself, with sudden anger at the meanness of such tactics. "They say she is so clever, and she can't refute a word I say. She appears to yield and then defies me. She always puts me off like that."
Gresley, "ignorance is at the root of any difference of opinion on such a subject as this. I do not say wilful ignorance, but the want of sound Church teaching. I must cut at the roots of this ignorance." "Dear James, it is thrice killing the slain. No one believes these fallacies which you are exposing the Nonconformists least of all.
It was always wrong, but it set the time at Warpington. There were two hours before bedtime I mean "Bedfordshire." He turned over the first blank sheet and came to the next, which had one word only written on it. "Husks!" said Mr. Gresley. "That must be the title. Husks that the swine did eat. Ha! I see.
Gresley slipped away to order tea, the silver teapot, etc. The Archdeacon was a friend of Mr. Gresley's. Mr. Gresley had not many friends among the clergy, possibly because he always attributed the popularity of any of his brethren to a laxity of principle on their part, or their success, if they did succeed, to the peculiarly easy circumstances in which they were placed.
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