"I say, pass those chocolates along!" he whispered hoarsely. Then,
recovering himself a little: "I wonder what they did to him? They _must_
have done something to his legs, because they were all crooked when he
came out."
EPILOGUE
HUGH SEYMOUR
I
It happened that Hugh Seymour, in the month of December, 1911, found
himself in the dreamy orchard-bound cathedral city of Polchester.
Polchester, as all its inhabitants well know, is famous for its
cathedral, its buns, and its river, the cathedral being one of the
oldest, the buns being among the sweetest, and the Pol being amongst the
most beautiful of the cathedrals, buns and rivers of Great Britain.
Seymour had known Polchester since he was five years old, when he first
lived there with his father and mother, but he had only once during the
last ten years been able to visit Glebeshire, and then he had been to
Rafiel, a fishing village on the south coast. He had, therefore, not
seen Polchester since his childhood, and now it seemed to him to have
shrivelled from a world of infinite space and mystery into a toy town
that would be soon packed away in a box and hidden in a cupboard.
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