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Updated: June 15, 2025
I dusted it thoroughly this morning, but I wish he had given some notice of his intention to call. I should be so vexed if he found anything dusty. What is he doing, Anastasia? Did he say he would wait till Mr Westray came back?" "He said he would write a note for Mr Westray. I found him writing things." "I hope you gave his lordship Mr Westray's presentation inkstand."
He understood and relied implicitly on Westray's fantastic sense of honour. Westray had written that he would "take no steps" till the ensuing Monday, and Lord Blandamer was sure that no one would be told before that day, and that no one had been told yet. If Westray could be silenced all was saved; if Westray spoke, all was lost.
He broke off, for there was a little noise somewhere above them in the scaffolding, and went on in what was meant for a whisper: "Mr Westray's taking his lordship round; they're up in the roof now. D'ye hear 'em?" "Lordship! What lordship? D'you mean that fellow Blandamer?" "Yes, that's just who I do mean.
The organist had not followed the change of Westray's mind; he retained only the first impression of reluctance, and was very anxious curiously anxious, it might have seemed, if his only motive in the acquiring of the picture was to do a kindness to Miss Euphemia. "It is a large sum, I know," he said in a low voice. "I am very sorry to ask you to do this.
Westray felt as if he had received a staggering blow as he came face to face with naked truth, and Lord Blandamer read Westray's thoughts, and knew the extent of his discovery. Lord Blandamer was the first to speak. "I am glad to see you again," he said with perfect courtesy, "and am very much obliged to you for taking this trouble in bringing the picture."
He could hear deep-voiced Taylor John go striding through his singing comrades in the intricacies of the Treble Bob Triples, and yet there was another voice in Westray's ears that made itself heard even above the booming of the tenor bell. It was the cry of the tower arches, the small still voice that had haunted him ever since he had been at Cullerne.
I am afraid I have not thought so earnestly as I should at my prayers." Anastasia Joliffe said nothing. She was grieved because the organist was thumping out old waltzes, and she knew by his playing that he had been drinking. The Hand of God stood on the highest point in all the borough, and Mr Westray's apartments were in the third story.
On that bright morning she looked the brightest thing of all, as she walked briskly to the market with a basket on her arm, unconscious that two men were watching her from an upper window. It was at that minute that thrift was finally elbowed by sentiment out of Westray's mind. "Yes," he said, "by all means let us buy the picture.
The foreman-mason called after him: "There is only one door open, my lord a little door by the organ." "Yes, I know the door," Lord Blandamer shouted, as he disappeared round the church. A few minutes later he had forced open the belfry door. He pulled it back towards him, and stood behind it on the steps higher up, leaving the staircase below clear for Westray's escape.
It was to the class of indifferentists that Anastasia belonged; she neither sought nor shunned a change of state, but regarded marriage as an accident that, in befalling her, might substantially change the outlook. She read Westray's letter once more from beginning to end. It was duller than ever.
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