In point of
breeding, I felt sure that Ireton could not compare with Mr. Armitage for a
moment, and it seemed to me vastly improbable that the invader of Brackley
Hall would meet with the kind of reception he anticipated.
I saw Ireton when he set out to pay his call. His Gladstone-bags had
provided him with the costume of Piccadilly; from shining hat to
patent-leather shoes, he was immaculate. Seeing that he had to walk more
than a mile, that the month was September, and that he could not pretend to
have come straight from town, this apparel struck me as not a little
inappropriate; I could only suppose that the man had no social tact.
At seven in the evening he again sought me. His urban glories were
exchanged for the ordinary attire, but I at once read in his face that he
had suffered no humiliation.
'Come and dine with me at the inn,' he exclaimed cordially; 'if one may use
such a word as _dine_ under the circumstances.'
'With pleasure.'
'To-morrow I dine with the Armitages.'
He regarded me with an air of infinite satisfaction. Surprised, I held my
peace. 'It was as I foresaw. The old fellow welcomed me with open arms. His
daughters gave me tea. I had really a very pleasant time.
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