Then he turned, and behold, on a seat just under
the window sat Mr. Cowes, & short pipe in his mouth, a smoking
tumbler held on his knee. The supporters of total abstinence nodded
to each other, with a slight lack of spontaneity. Mr. Cullen, having
secured his own tumbler, came by his comrade's side.
'Deal o' fine talk to wind up with,' he remarked tentatively.
'He means what he says,' returned the other gravely.
'Oh yes,' Mr. Cullen hastened to admit. 'Mutimer means what he says!
Only the way of saying it, I meant--I've got a bit of a sore
throat.'
'So have I. After that there hot room.'
They nodded at each other sympathetically. Mr. Cullen filled a
little black pipe.
'Got alight?'
Mr. Cowes offered the glowing bowl of his own clay; they put their
noses together and blew a cloud.
'Of course there's no saying what time 'll do,' observed tall Mr.
Cowes, sententiously, after a gulp of warm liquor.
'No more there is,' assented short Mr. Cullen with half a wink.
'It's easy to promise.'
'As easy as tellin' lies.'
Another silence.
'Don't suppose you and me 'll get much of it,' Mr. Cowes ventured to
observe.
'About as much as you can put in your eye without winkin',' was the
other's picturesque agreement.
They talked till closing time.
CHAPTER VII
One morning late in June, Hubert Eldon passed through the gates of
Wanley Manor and walked towards the village.
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