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His arrival had been unnoticed amid the tremendous resounding of the duet. "Oh, Osmond," said his wife. "Wherever have you been so late? Hilda wants to go Edwin Clayhanger has invited her to go over the works." Hilda, trembling at the door, more than half expected Mr. Orgreave to say: "You mean, she's invited herself."
Here Mr Orgreave had a confabulation with the corduroyed man, who was the builder, and they pored over immense sheets of coloured plans that lay on the table, and Mr Orgreave made marks and even sketches on the plans, and the fat man objected to his instructions, and Mr Orgreave insisted, "Yes, yes!"
Enwright also was going to the Orgreave luncheon. He was in what the office called 'one of his moods. The other occupants of the compartment had a stiff and self-conscious air: some apparently were proud of being abroad on Sunday morning; some apparently were ashamed. Mr. Enwright's demeanour was as free and natural as that of a child.
Mr Orgreave, having accomplished a lot of forbidden labour on that Sabbath, was playful in his hospitality. "Prisoner! Take charge of him!" exclaimed Mr Orgreave shortly, as he pushed Edwin into the breakfast-room and shut the door from the outside. Janet was there, exquisitely welcoming, unconsciously pouring balm from her eyes. But he thought she looked graver than usual.
For the feast, the court-room had been transformed into a banqueting hall, and the magistrates' bench, where habitual criminals were created and families ruined and order maintained, was hidden in flowers. Osmond Orgreave was dryly facetious about that bench.
"You do?" said Mr Orgreave quite simply and ingenuously pleased and interested. "You see with the lie of the ground as it is " That was another point that Edwin ought to have thought of by himself the lie of the ground but he had not thought of it. Mr Orgreave went on talking. In the shop he had conveyed the idea that he was tremendously pressed for time; now he had apparently forgotten time.
He and she would live regally in one of those very houses, and people should kowtow to her because she was the dazzling wife of the renowned young architect, George Cannon. And he would show her to Mrs. John Orgreave and to Lois, and those women should acknowledge in her a woman incomparably their superior. They should not be able to hide their impressed astonishment when they saw her.
She said to herself: "Yet what do I care whether he is keeping silence or not?" Mr. Orgreave remarked, in the suspense, glancing ironically at his wife: "I think I'll go upstairs and do an hour's planning. They aren't likely to be more than an hour, I expect?" "Hilda," said Mrs.
Despite the fresh pinky horrors of its external architecture, and despite his own desire and firm intention to the contrary, George was very deeply impressed by the new Orgreave home. It was far larger than the previous house. The entrance was spacious, and the drawing-room, with a great fire at either end, immense. He had never been in an interior so splendid.
"There isn't much of it." "How beautifully clearly you read!" said Mrs. Orgreave, with mild enthusiasm, when Hilda had read the meagre half-column. "Do I?" Hilda flushed. "Is that all there is about it?" "Yes. They don't seem to think it's very important that half the people are starving!" Hilda sneered. "Whose fault is it if they do starve?" Osmond Orgreave glanced at her with lowered head.
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