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Updated: June 12, 2025
There they all were and how exactly he knew how they would all be! There was the long oak table, blotting paper and writing materials neatly placed before each seat, there the fine walls in which he always took so great a pride, with the portraits of the Polchester Bishops in grand succession upon them. At the head of the table was the Dean, nervously with anxious smiles looking about him.
I would not like to say that Polchester had a more snobbish spirit than other Cathedral towns, but there is no doubt that, thirty years ago, the lines were drawn very clearly indeed between the "Cathedral" and the "Others." "Cathedral" included not only the daughters of the Canons and what Mr.
Her brain was fastened upon him with an intensity sufficient almost to draw him, hypnotised, there to her feet. Her husband, her home, Polchester, these things were like dim shadows. "So you will do nothing?" she said. "I must wait," he said, "I know that when I act hastily I act badly...." He paused, looked at her doubtfully, then with great hesitation went on: "We are together in this, Amy.
She was a widow and lived in a little green house with a little green garden in the Polchester outskirts. She was as pretty as she had been twenty years before, exactly the same, save that what nature had, twenty years ago, done for the asking, it now did under compulsion. She believed the whole world in love with her and was therefore a thoroughly happy woman.
We none of us speak the truth here." "Really, Mrs. Combermere, you're giving Polchester a dreadful character." He laughed, but did not take his eyes away from her. "I hope that you've been here so long that you've forgotten what the place is like. I believe in first impressions." "So do I," she said, very grimly indeed. "Well, in a year's time we shall see which of us is right.
The Polchester girls are so slow and always breaking things. I suppose some things have been smashed in the move nothing very valuable, I hope." "Lots of things, Ellen," said Ronder, laughing. "We've had the most awful time and badly need your help. It's only this room that Aunt Alice got straight just to have something to show, you know. And our journey down!
But I didn't mean really to talk about them I only wanted to show you how deeply Glebeshire matters to the Trenchards, and whatever happens, wherever a Trenchard goes, he always really takes Glebeshire with him. I was born in Polchester, as I said. My father had a little property there, but we always lived in a little round bow-windowed house in the Cathedral Close.
If he indulged in any pictures of the future, he did, perhaps, see himself returning to Polchester in a year's time or so, as the editor of the most remarkable of London's new periodicals, received by his father with enthusiasm, and even Annie admitted into the family with approval.
No, he was real, March Square was real, Polchester was real, Glebeshire and London were real together nothing died, nothing passed away. On the second afternoon of his stay he was standing in the Close, bathed now in yellow sunlight, when he saw coming towards him a familiar figure. One glance was enough to assure him that this was the Rev. William Lasher, once Vicar of Clinton St.
Leave Polchester?...Leave father?" "Yes, why not? Your father doesn't need me any longer. Nobody wants me here. Why shouldn't I go?" He came close to her, giving her now all his attention, staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time in his life. "Mother, aren't you well?...Aren't you happy?" She laughed. "Happy?
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