How was Canon
Lasher? Well? Good. They met sometimes at meetings at Polchester. Canon
Lasher, Mr. Trenchard believed, liked it better at Polchester than at
Clinton. Honestly, it would break Mr. Trenchard's heart if _he_ had to
leave the place. But there was no danger of that now. Would Mr.
Seymour--his wife would be delighted--would he stay to luncheon?
"Why, that is too kind of you," said Seymour, hesitating, "but there are
so many of us, such a lot--I mean," he said hurriedly, at Mr.
Trenchard's innocent stare of surprise, "that it's too hard on Mrs.
Trenchard, with so little notice."
He broke off confusedly.
"We shall only be too delighted," said Mr. Trenchard. "And if you have
friends ..."
"No, no," said Seymour, "I'm quite alone."
When, afterwards, he was introduced to Mrs. Trenchard in the
drawing-room, he liked her at once. She was a little woman, very neat,
with grey hair brushed back from her forehead. She was like some fresh,
mild-coloured fruit, and an old-fashioned dress of rather faded green
silk, and a large locket that she wore gave her a settled, tranquil air
as though she had always been the same, and would continue so for many
years.
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