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Updated: May 23, 2025
She thought: "It would kill me if I had to live here. It's deadening. It weighs on you. And the dirt, and the horrible ugliness! And the way they talk, and the way they think! I felt it first at Knype station. The Square is rather picturesque, but it's such a poor, poor little thing! Fancy having to look at it every morning of one's life! No!" She almost shuddered.
And that's all, except that I'm going to sup with a man at Knype to-night. There were sounds in the hall, and the door of the drawing-room opened; but it was only Bessie coming to light the gas. 'Is that your master just come in? Leonora asked her. 'Yes, ma'am. 'At last, said Leonora, and they waited. With noiseless precision Bessie lit the gas, made the fire, drew the curtains, and departed.
But underneath all this was a sub-title, 'Amusing Exploit of the Mayor-elect, followed by an amusing description of the procession of the geese, a description which concluded by referring to Mr. Curtenty as His Worship the Goosedriver. Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, and Turnhill laughed heartily, and perhaps a little viciously, at this paragraph, but Bursley was annoyed by it.
"If that's it!... I'm hanged if I don't go to London!... I'm hanged if I don't go to London!" The early adventures of Alderman Machin of Bursley at Wilkins's Hotel, London, were so singular, and to him so refreshing, that they must be recounted in some detail. He went to London by the morning express from Knype, on the Monday week after his visit to the music-hall.
Then I knew that it was Manchester and not Knype that had suffered. The confusion and hubbub were in a high degree disturbing and puzzling. But one emotion emerged clear: pleasure. I felt it myself. I was aware of joy in that the two sides were now levelled to ten men apiece. I was mystically identified with the Five Towns, absorbed into their life.
I did not resist, I yielded; I accepted. I was already in disgrace with Aunt Constance as well be drowned in twelve feet of water as in six! So we drove rapidly away in the brougham, through the miry, light-reflecting streets of Hanbridge in the direction of Knype. And the raindrops ran down the windows of the brougham, and in the cushioned interior we could see each other darkly.
Waiting for the loop-line train in the familiar tedium of Knype platform, staring at the bookstall, every item on which he knew by heart and despised, surrounded once more by local physiognomies, gestures, and accent, he thought to himself: "This is my lot. And if I get messing about, it only shows what a damned fool I am!"
"It's nearly dark," she said. "I must go! I have to pack... Oh dear, dear those poor men! Somebody will be hurt!" "I'll walk up with you," he whispered, holding her, in owner ship. "No. It will be better not. Let me out." "Really?" "Really!" "But who'll take you to Knype Station?" "Janet will go with me." She rose reluctantly. In the darkness they were now only dim forms to each other.
They would then leave the old man to eat the news with his dinner. A cab was to be at the door at one o'clock to carry them to Knype Station, where they would partake of the wedding breakfast in the first-class refreshment room, and afterwards catch the two-forty to Blackpool, there to spend a honeymoon of six days. This was the idea.
But either he had caught the previous train to Knype, or he had driven down. Holding a Gladstone bag and a stick in one hand, he stood talking to another man of about his own age and height. The conversation was vivacious, at any rate on George Cannon's part. Hilda passed close by him amid the populous stir of the expectant platform.
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