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"So you're against me too, Edwin!" Mr Orgreave sighed with mock melancholy. "Well, this is no place for me." He rose, lifted Alicia and put her into his arm-chair, and then went towards the door. "You aren't going to work, are you, Osmond?" his wife asked, turning her head. "I am," said he. He disappeared amid a wailing chorus of "Oh, dad!"
Hilda's appointment might have been of the most serious business interest, for anything Mrs. Orgreave's demeanor indicated to the contrary. Hilda stood mute and constrained. "You run down and tell them to make tea at once, dear. I can't let you go without anything at all. I wonder what can have kept Osmond." Almost at the same moment, Osmond Orgreave entered the bedroom.
He recalled days in his mother's boarding-house at Brighton; musical evenings, at which John Orgreave was present, at his stepfather's house in the Five Towns; and in all kinds of scenes at the later home at Ladderedge Hall scenes in which his mother again predominated, becoming young again and learning sports and horsewomanship as a girl might have learnt them.... And they were all beautiful beneath the music.
She seemed to know all about you, my boy." "Well, but she couldn't know all about me," said George insincerely. "Well, if you want to know then, she suggested I should ask you." "But she'd never seen me!" "She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect." "Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically assessing an announcement that had no intrinsic interest for him.
"I suppose you know Miss Gailey is practically starving," she said abruptly, harshly, staring at the gutter. She had leapt. Life seemed to leave her. She had not intended to use such words, nor such a tone. She certainly did not suppose that he knew about Miss Gailey's condition. She had affirmed to Janet Orgreave her absolute assurance that he did not know.
The excellent old fellow was prone to be tedious; they would accept his tediousness, but they would not disguise from each other their perception of it. "I hear the Vicar of Saint Peter's is very ill indeed," said Mrs Orgreave, blandly interrupting her husband. "What? Heve? With influenza?" "Yes. I wouldn't tell you before because I thought it might pull you down again."
She was waiting for him in the garden, and by dint of starting the conversation in loud tones from a distance, and fumbling a few moments with the tennis balls before approaching her, he had come through the encounter without too much foolishness. And now he was glad that he had not been so silly as to stay away. She was alone; Mrs Orgreave was lying down, and all the others were out.
"Then she's brought him up to London, and she's putting him in a train at Euston. That's it." "Only there is no London train that gets to Knype at half-past six," Edwin said. "It's 7:12, or 7:14 I forget." "Oh! That's near enough for Hilda," Janet smiled, looking at her watch. "She doesn't mean any other train?" Mrs Orgreave fearfully suggested. "She can't mean any other train. There is no other.
And Osmond Orgreave had lent Janet a shilling so that she might bet Charlie a shilling that he would not succeed in bringing Edwin to the house. The understanding was that if Janet won, her father was to take sixpence of the gain. Janet herself had failed to lure Edwin into the house. He was so easy to approach and so difficult to catch. Janet was slightly piqued.
John Orgreave mounted to the upper floor of the house in Russell Square where George had his office. Underneath George's name on the door had been newly painted the word 'Inquiries, and on another door, opposite, the word 'Private. John Orgreave knocked with exaggerated noise at this second door and went into what was now George's private room.
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