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Fane-Smith came over from Greyshot, horrified to hear that the man who he had once treated with scant justice and actual discourtesy was lying on his death bed, a victim to religious fanaticism. Spite of his very hard words to her, Erica had always respected Mr. Fane-Smith, and she was glad that he had come at the last.
You are much too charming to be bound down to silly conventionalities. Come, let us have this dance. I'm sure you are engaged to some one in the supper room who can't deserve such a delightful partner. Let us have this TROIS TEMPS, and hurl defiance at the Greyshot chaperons." Rose laughed, and allowed herself to be borne off.
Fane-Smith wished her goodbye with a sort of affectionate relief; then Donovan helped her into the pony carriage, and drove briskly off through the Greyshot streets. "That is the place where I first heard your father," he said, indicating with his whip the town Hall. "It must be sixteen years ago; I was quite a young fellow." "Sixteen years!
There was no bitterness, no shade of complaint in his tone; he merely stated a fact. Erica was amazed; she knew that he was about the only man who attempted to grapple with the evil and degradation and poverty of Greyshot. "You see," he continued, with a bright look which seemed to raise Erica into purer atmosphere, "it is not the public estimation which makes a man's character.
"We really must try to get you a larger room," said Erica, looking round. "How little and poky everything looks." "Has Greyshot made you discontented?" "Only for you," she replied, laughing. "I was thinking of Mr.
Comedy of Errors. Not out of malice, but mere zeal, Because he was an infidel. Hudibras "Blessed old London, how delightful it is to come back to it!" exclaimed Erica, as she and Tom drove home from Paddington on the afternoon of her return from Greyshot. "Tell the man not to go through the back streets, there's a good boy! Ah, he's doing it of his own accord!
"I do believe that now, with all my heart." she said. "I knew you did," he replied, smiling a little. "You have learned it since you were at Greyshot last year. And once learned it is learned forever." "Yes," she said musingly. "But, oh! How slowly one learns in such little bits.
Fane-Smith found herself on her way to Lady Caroline's; but her developing breadth of view was destined to receive a severe shock. They were the last guests to arrive, and at the very moment of their entrance Lady Caroline was talking in her most vivacious way to Mr. Cuthbert, a young clergyman, the vicar of one of the Greyshot churches. "I am going to give you a treat, Mr.
Luke Raeburn, if he pulled down with the one hand, at any rate, tried hard to build up with the other; but the people of Greyshot caused in a great degree the ruin and down fall, and then exclaimed, "How shocking!" and turned their backs, thinking to shift their blame on to the secularist leaders.
The letter bore the Greyshot postmark; it must be from his sister Isabel. He opened it with some eagerness; there had been no communication between them since the time of his wife's death, and though he had hoped that the correspondence once begun might have been continued, nothing more had come of it. The letter proved short, and not altogether palatable.
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