To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her
knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. He had
quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. But he had shown no desire for
information, no curiosity. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703—
while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he
received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which,
at once, destroyed his hopes. They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading
upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their
weight. He kissed her once inside the car. It
was obvious that he had waited for her. It was a neat, efficient-looking room,
with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a
bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a
pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. “So Lucy, I hear that you are quite the violin player. He displayed none of the
airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. He was indeed still in the throes of his
bewilderment. His eyes closed.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 22-06-2024 06:23:11