Edmunds. Everybody's down at Lympne ... I've been left with a new
man here and I don't know his name. [_He is very pathetic._] I told him to
put O'Connell in the library there. I thought that either Farrant or I might
perhaps see him first and--
_At this moment_ EDMUNDS _comes in, and, with that air of discreet
tact which he considers befits the establishment of a Prime Minister,
announces_, "Mr. O'Connell, my lord." _As_ O'CONNELL _follows him_,
HORSHAM _can only try not to look too disconcerted._ O'CONNELL, _in
his tightly buttoned frock coat, with his shaven face and
close-cropped iron grey hair, might be mistaken for a Catholic priest;
except that he has not also acquired the easy cheerfulness which
professional familiarity with the mysteries of that religion seems to
give. For the moment, at least, his features are so impassive that
they may tell either of the deepest grief or the purest indifference;
or it may be, merely of reticence on entering a stranger's room. He
only bows towards_ HORSHAM'S _half-proffered hand. With instinctive
respect for the situation of this tragically made widower the men have
risen and stand in various uneasy attitudes._
HORSHAM. Oh ... how do you do? Let me see ... do you know my cousin Charles
Cantelupe? Yes ... we were expecting Russell Blackborough.
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