She waited partly to get her
breath, and partly so that she might take advantage of a hymn or a psalm
to gain her seat without attracting attention. If she had not been late,
if she had not been stout, if she had not had a seat under the pulpit,
if she had not had an objection to making herself conspicuous, she would
have been already in the church and Denry would not have had a private
colloquy with her.
"Well, you're nice people, I must say!" she observed, as he raised his
hat.
She meant Duncalf and all Duncalf's myrmidons. She was still full of her
grievance. The letter which she had received that morning had startled
her. And even the shadow of the sacred edifice did not prevent her from
referring to an affair that was more suited to Monday than to Sunday
morning. A little more, and she would have snorted.
"Nothing to do with me, you know!" Denry defended himself.
"Oh!" she said, "you're all alike, and I'll tell you this, Mr Machin,
I'd take him at his word if it wasn't that I don't know who else
I could trust to collect my rents. I've heard such tales about
rent-collectors.... I reckon I shall have to make my peace with him.
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