The Archdeacon
lay luxuriously drinking it until exactly a quarter to seven, then he
sprang out of bed, had his cold bath, performed his exercises, and shaved
in his little dressing-room. At about a quarter past seven, nearly
dressed, he returned into the bedroom, to find Mrs. Brandon also nearly
dressed. On this particular day while he drank his tea his wife appeared
to be sleeping; that did not make him bound out of bed any the less
noisily-after twenty years of married life you do not worry about such
things; moreover it was quite time that his wife bestirred herself. At a
quarter past seven he came into the bedroom in his shirt and trousers,
humming "Onward, Christian Soldiers." It was a fine spring morning, so he
flung up the window and looked out into the Precinct, fresh and dewy in
the morning sun, silent save for the inquisitive reiteration of an early
jackdaw. Then he turned back, and, to his amazement, saw that his wife was
lying, her eyes wide open, staring in front of her.
"My dear!" he cried. "Aren't you well?"
"I'm perfectly well," she answered him, her eyes maintaining their fixed
stare.
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