Mrs. Trimwell looked dubious. It would appear that this aspect of affairs had not previously struck her.
“Well, sir,” quoth she reflective, “I’ll own you have me there. I couldn’t give you no clear answer to that. It seems to me that the world’s all a bit of shoving and pushing, and slipping through gaps to the front when you see them. And if you don’t do the slipping, someone else will. I reckon it’s right enough if you’re not pushing your own folk and friends aside. When it comes to them, well, matters do get a bit awkward, I’ll allow. What do you think, sir?”
John shook his head.
“Frankly, Mrs. Trimwell, I don’t know.”
“Well, to tell you the honest truth, sir, no more don’t I. It’s one thing to talk o’ the common-sense point of view, but when you come straight up to it, well, you sometimes wonders if it isn’t a bit more edgey and cornery than you cares about. ’Tis a funny world.”
“It is,” said John fervently.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE OLD OAK
Oh, it was a funny world, fast enough, John knew that. He’d known it in fits and starts all his life, but somehow the last ten days had emphasized the fact more fully.
Ten days! To John it seemed a lifetime since he, in company with Corin, had stepped upon Whortley platform, had taken his seat in the rickety bus that had conveyed him at its own shaky pace to the White Cottage. A lifetime! And yet reason, that firm indicator of common-sense, emphasized to the contrary. Anyhow, a lifetime or ten days, the time had been long enough for him to know his mind. He had known it for weeks past. But for her? There was the question. And it was one which common-sense, modesty, and every other thought but his own wish, answered firmly in the negative. He had seen her precisely seven times, and two out of the number obviously went for nothing, seeing that the first time she had been totally unaware of his presence, and the third time, if she had seen him, it would have been merely as one of a small congregation of worshippers, his individuality entirely unnoticed.
Therefore, argued John, if what he so ardently desired was, by any possible manner of means, to be brought about by an increased number of meetings, the sooner he set about increasing them the better. Obviously the proper, the correct thing to do, after lunching at a house, was to pay a respectful call upon one’s hostess. He had no need to consult an etiquette book to remind himself of that fact.