His next was
one of elation.
Violet, meanwhile, stood patiently before him with the coffee. Mr
Blatherwick helped himself. His eye fell on Violet.
Violet was a friendly, warm-hearted little thing. She saw that Mr
Blatherwick had had good news; and, as the bearer of the letters which
had contained it, she felt almost responsible. She smiled kindly up at
Mr Blatherwick.
Mr Blatherwick's dreamy hazel eye rested pensively upon her. The major
portion of his mind was far away in the future, dealing with visions of
a school grown to colossal proportions, and patronized by millionaires.
The section of it which still worked in the present was just large
enough to enable him to understand that he felt kindly, and even almost
grateful, to Violet. Unfortunately it was too small to make him see how
wrong it was to kiss her in a vague, fatherly way across the coffee
tray just as James Datchett walked into the room.
James paused. Mr Blatherwick coughed. Violet, absolutely unmoved,
supplied James with coffee, and bustled out of the room.
She left behind her a somewhat massive silence.
Mr Blatherwick coughed again.
'It looks like rain,' said James, carelessly.
'Ah?' said Mr Blatherwick.
'Very like rain,' said James.
'Indeed!' said Mr Blatherwick.
A pause.
'Pity if it rains,' said James.
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