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He told her about the Ansells, and so worded the letter that she might reasonably have sent an invitation to his friend. She replied that she was looking forward to their tete-a-tete. "You mustn't go round by the trains," said Mr. Ansell. "It means changing at Salisbury. By the road it's no great way. Stewart shall drive you over Salisbury Plain, and fetch you too."
Elliot would be glad to see him now. "Mrs. Elliot?" cried Ansell. "Not Mr. Elliot?" "It's all the same," said Stephen, and moved towards the house. "You see, I only left my name. They don't know why I've come." "Perhaps Mr. Elliot sees me meanwhile?" The parlour-maid looked blank. Mr. Elliot had not said so. He had been with Mrs. Elliot and Mr. Pembroke in the study.
"I have been telling him that he should not have left us so long without news especially as he has been ill, and things have gone rather badly with him. But I hope we can help now. He has heard that Saint Christopher's is looking for a house-physician for the paying patients' wing, and as Mr. Langhope is away I have given him a line to Mrs. Ansell."
One of her day-dreams of the future was going to the theatre in a night-gown and being accommodated with an orange-box. Little rectification of such distorted views of life was to be expected from Moses Ansell, who went down to his grave without seeing even a circus, and had no interest in art apart from the "Police News" and his "Mizrach" and the synagogue decorations.
At last she raised her head and said: "Why did Mr. Amherst let her come to you, instead of coming himself?" "He knows nothing of her being here. She persuaded him to wait a day, and as soon as he had gone to the mills this morning she took the first train to town." "Ah " Mrs. Ansell murmured thoughtfully; and Mr.
He was ashamed, for he remembered his new resolution to work without criticizing, to throw himself vigorously into the machine, not to mind if he was pinched now and then by the elaborate wheels. "Mr. Ansell!" cried his wife, laughing somewhat shrilly. "Aha! Now I understand. It's just the kind of thing poor Mr. Ansell would say. Well, I'm brutal.
Bring your masterly intellect to bear on the industrial problem." Mrs. Ansell restored the innumerable implements to her writing-case, and laid her arm with a caressing gesture on Mrs. Westmore's shoulder. "Don't tease her. She's tired, and she misses the baby." "I shall get a telegram tomorrow morning," exclaimed the young mother, brightening. "Of course you will.
Mr. Langhope brought out with emphasis. Mrs. Ansell drew a deep sigh which made him add accusingly: "I believe you're actually sorry!" "Sorry?" She raised her eye-brows with a slight smile. "Should one not always be sorry to know there's a little less love and a little more hate in the world?" "You'll be asking me not to hate her next!" She still continued to smile on him.
Langhope, allured by her last argument; and Bessy, clasping her hands, summed up enthusiastically: "And I shall understand so much better without a lot of people trying to explain to me at once!" Her sudden enthusiasm surprised no one, for even Mrs. Ansell, expert as she was in the interpreting of tones, set it down to the natural desire to have done as quickly as might be with Hanaford. "Mrs.
Rickie wondered whether, after all, Ansell and the extremists might not be right, and bodily beauty and strength be signs of the soul's damnation. He glanced at Agnes. She was writing down some orderings for the tradespeople on a piece of paper. Her handsome face was intent on the work. The bench on which she and Gerald were sitting had no back, but she sat as straight as a dart.
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