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Cholmondeley, Mary, 1859-1925

"Red Pottage"

"
"My dear," said the Bishop, "I went across to his rooms two hours ago,
directly you went up to Hester."
He loved Rachel, but he wondered at her lack of imagination.
"Two hours ago! And what did you say to him?"
"I did not see him. I was too late. He was gone."
"Gone!" said Rachel, faintly. "Where?"
"I do not know. I went up to his rooms. All his things were still
there."
"Where is he now?"
"I do not know."
The Bishop looked at her compassionately. She had been a long time
forgiving him. While she hesitated he had said to her, "Where is he
now?" and she had not understood.
Her face became pinched and livid. She understood now, after the event.
"I am frightened for him," she said.
The Bishop had been alarmed while she poured out his tea before they
began to talk.
"Perhaps he has gone back to London," she said, her eyes widening with a
vague dread.
The Bishop had gone on to the station, and had ascertained that Hugh had
not left by the one train which had stopped at Southminster between
seven and nine. But he did not add to her anxiety by saying so.
The doctor's brougham, coming at full speed, drew up suddenly at the
door.
"There he is at last," said the Bishop, and before the bell could be
rung he opened the door.


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