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Updated: June 8, 2025
Then he produced a cigarette, and struck a match, and he was about to light the cigarette, when squinting down at it he suddenly wondered: "Now how the deuce did that cigarette come into my mouth?" He replaced the cigarette in his case, and in a moment he had left the house. He was invited to Mrs. John Orgreave's new abode at Bedford Park for lunch. In the early part of the year, Mrs.
He exchanged comments with other magistrates, and they all agreed, with the same dry facetiousness, that most of the law was futile and some of it mischievous; and they all said, `But what can you do? and by their tone indicated that you could do nothing. According to Osmond Orgreave's wit, the only real use of a magistrate was to sign the necessary papers for persons who had lost pawn-tickets.
She could not accept the assistance of an attractive bodice!... Unfeminine, perhaps, but womanly. At twenty-five minutes to seven, she went into Mrs. Orgreave's bedroom, rather like a child, and also rather like an adult creature in a distracting crisis. Tom Orgreave and Alicia were filling the entire house with the stormy noise of a piano duet based upon Rossini's William Tell.
On this Tuesday evening, Osmond Orgreave was very late, and the movement of the household was less smooth than usual, owing to Mrs. Orgreave's illness and to the absence of Janet at Hillport in connection with the projected Hillport Choral Society.
This board was covered by a wide length of bluish transparent paper which at intervals he pulled towards him, making billows of paper at his feet and gradually lessening a roll of it that lay on the floor beyond the table. A specially arranged gas-bracket with a green shade which threw a powerful light on the paper showed that Osmond Orgreave's habit was to work in that spot of an evening.
He was wearing Jimmie Orgreave's india-rubber pumps, which admirably fitted him. Moreover, he was aware that he looked better in his jacket than in his shirt-sleeves. But these reasons against the rendezvous were naught. The only genuine reason was that he had felt timid about meeting Janet.
Orgreave's tone, with all its softness, was a command. "Tennyson? I've forgotten 'Maud," she muttered. "I'll prompt you," said Charlie. "Thomas!" Everybody looked at Tom, expert in literature as well as in music; Tom, the collector, the owner of books and bookcases. Tom went to a bookcase and drew forth a green volume, familiar and sacred throughout all England. "Oh dear!" Hilda moaned.
Dinner occurred in the middle of the day, and about nine in the evening was an informal but copious supper. Between those two meals, there came a tea which was neither high or low, and whose hour, six o'clock in theory, depended to a certain extent, in practice, on Mr. Orgreave's arrival from the office. Not seldom Mr. Orgreave was late; occasionally he was very late.
George inserted himself between them, roughly towards Lucas and deferentially towards Mr. John. "But you've got the main axis wrong!" he exclaimed. "How, wrong?" John Orgreave demanded. "See here give me the pencil, Looc." George felt with a little thrill of satisfaction the respect for him which underlay John Orgreave's curt tone of a principal and a principal from the Midlands.
Hilda struck into silence, made no response, and instantly Clayhanger finished, in another tone: "Look here, I must be off. I only slipped in for a minute really." And he went, declining Mr. Orgreave's request to give a date for his next call. The bang of the front door resounded through the house. Mr.
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