Here it is: [_reading_] 'the term of
human life must be extended to at least three centuries.'
THE TWEEDED GENTLEMAN. How did you arrive at it?
_A parlor maid opens the door, ushering in a young clergyman._
THE PARLOR MAID. Mr Haslam. [_She withdraws_].
_The visitor is so very unwelcome that his host forgets to rise; and
the two brothers stare at the intruder, quite unable to conceal their
dismay. Haslam, who has nothing clerical about him except his collar,
and wears a snuff-colored suit, smiles with a frank school-boyishness
that makes it impossible to be unkind to him, and explodes into
obviously unpremeditated speech._
HASLAM. I'm afraid I'm an awful nuisance. I'm the rector; and I suppose
one ought to call on people.
THE TWEEDED GENTLEMAN [_in ghostly tones_] We're not Church people, you
know.
HASLAM. Oh, I don't mind that, if you don't. The Church people here are
mostly as dull as ditch-water. I have heard such a lot about you; and
there are so jolly few people to talk to. I thought you perhaps wouldn't
mind. _Do_ you mind? for of course I'll go like a shot if I'm in the
way.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210