Explore "The Silent Woman" by Eliza Margaret Jane Humphreys on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Rufus Myrthe slammed the gate and crossed the gravel path leading into the churchyard, in a royal rage at the result of his interview. But, after a moment or two, he cooled down and began to laugh.
"The old gentleman was so full of his own dignity and so self-important. I suppose I wasn't humble or respectful enough. Well, I can't get over the notion that my idea of reverence is as good for me as for the man I'm speaking to. I know what I am and what I want, and I'm legitimately qualified to get it if I can. I shan't go hat in hand to anyone begging for favours. Their way of doing business over here isn't mine. We'll see in the end which works best. I wish this moorland air hadn't such a trick of giving one an appetite. Now, if I hadn't offended that old numbskull, I might have lunched at the parsonage or vicarage, or whatever they call it. As it is--well, I guess I'd best consult my friend the sexton."