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Updated: June 15, 2025
Back once more in the King Harry Chapel, he looked up. But he could see no one and could hear no sound. Ronder's Day Ronder had now spent several months in Polchester and was able to come to an opinion about it, and the opinion that he had come to was that he could be very comfortable there.
He did, indeed, like Brandon, and through most of this affair he did not cease to like him, but he, Ronder, would never be comfortable so long as Brandon was there, he would never be free to take the steps that seemed to him good, he would be interfered with and patronised. He was greatly amused by Brandon's patronage, but it really was not a thing that could be allowed to remain.
Her eyes, although red, were dry and glittering; her cheeks were of a pasty white marked with small red spots of indignation. Ronder, looking at her and her dirty hands, thought that he had never seen a woman whom he disliked more. "But, Miss Milton," he said, "if you'll forgive me, I still don't understand. Under whom do you hold this appointment?
"There! my dear!" said the Archdeacon. "And what are you doing this afternoon, Joan?" "I'm going with mother," she said, "to see Miss Ronder. It's time we called, you know." "I suppose it is." Brandon patted her cheek. "Everything you want?" "Yes, father, thank you." "That's right." He left the house, humming a little tune.
I haven't, indeed, and I shouldn't like any one to charge me with it." Ronder struck in then, and his voice was so strong, so filled with authority, that every one looked up as though some new figure had entered the room.
He climbed, the rocks cut his knees and hands; then, on every side his enemies appeared, Bentinck-Major and Foster, the Bishop's Chaplain, women, even children, laughing, and behind them Hogg and that drunken painter. Their hands were on him, they pulled at his flesh, they beat on his face then, suddenly, rising like a full moon behind the hill Ronder!
"If you didn't happen to have a kind heart hidden somewhere about you, you'd be a perfectly impossible woman. As it is, I'm not sure that you're not." "I think perhaps I am," Ellen answered, laughing. "I do take a great interest in other people's affairs. Well, why not? It prevents me from being bored." "But not from being a bore," said Ronder.
You might say that had Brandon been a man of real spiritual and moral strength, not Ronder, not even God Himself, could have brought Brandon to this. But was that so? Which of us knows until he is tried? His wife, his son, his body, all had failed him. And now this too.... And if Ronder had not come to that town would it have been so?
He instantly persuaded himself, as he looked at that rubicund and smiling figure, that Ronder had heard of his visit and determined to be one of the party. He could only have heard of it through Ponting.... The Archdeacon's fingers twisted within one another as he considered how pleasant it would be to wring Ponting's long, white and ecclesiastical neck.
What had he ever done that was not actuated absolutely by zeal for the town and the Cathedral? And, after all, had that man Ronder acted straight? He was fair and genial enough outwardly, but who could tell what went on behind those round spectacles? There were strange stories of intrigue about. Had he not determined to push Brandon out of the place from the first moment of his arrival?
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