The Witches by Peter Curtis EPUB & PDF

The Witches by Peter Curtis EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

  • Status: Available for Free Download
  • Author:Peter Curtis
  • Language: English
  • Genre: Occult Horror
  • Format: PDF / EPUB
  • Size: 2 MB
  • Price: Free

THE INTERVIEW HAD BEEN ARRANGED TO TAKE place in London at half-past
three on a Saturday afternoon. This was a time so extremely convenient to
Miss Mayfield that she was disposed to regard it as providential. It had
saved her from the embarrassment of having to ask for time off to attend an
interview in which she might not be successful, and from which she might
be obliged to return to face her present Head’s resentment. In her diffident
attempt to maintain secrecy she had left Alchester without the precaution of
obtaining a testimonial. This she recognized as the action of a fool, but she
had taught in the ugly Midland town for a bare two years, and she carried in
her shabby handbag a coolly eulogistic report of her twenty years’ work in
Africa. If that did not suffice, and if the interview showed any sign of
leading to a new appointment, then would be time enough to approach Miss
Stevens and break the news that she was contemplating a move.

Canon Thorby had written, ‘Claridge’s Hotel would be convenient for
me, since I have another appointment there earlier in the day. I shall be
waiting for you and if you ask at the desk, someone will point me out to
you.’
He wrote on thick smooth paper which justified the term ‘cream-laid’.
His writing was small, elegant, meticulously legible. It called up an
imaginary vision of the writer, plump, rubicund, with a fringe of silvery hair
and tranquil blue eyes. Kindly, perhaps a trifle pompous.

To Miss Mayfield, whose experience of such places was negligible, the
hotel seemed very large, very impressive and full of women whose clothes
in no way resembled her own. As she entered, the thought came and
remained with her for half a minute, that a new hat might have been a wise
investment. She countered this with the certainty that it would also have
been a waste, and self-indulgent into the bargain; a hat was a hat, and the
one she wore was adequate. Being, though shy, almost entirely without selfconsciousness, she asked for Canon Thorby and followed the lordly young
man who set out to glide her, with an outward composure that belied her
inner trepidation.

Canon Thorby had secured a corner table, half masked by a huge bowl
of long-stemmed roses, freesias and white lilacs in unseasonable proximity.
From behind this floral screen he was watchful, and was on his feet,
regarding her speculatively and then with a welcoming smile before she
was within speaking distance. He was quite unlike her mental picture of
him, being tall and spare, with a reddish-brown, weathered complexion and
a full head of rust-coloured hair, just touched with grey at the temples. His
eyes, however, were blue and tranquil.

They shook hands and Miss Mayfield sat down and replied to his
questions regarding her journey, his comment on the coldness of the
November weather.
‘After so long in Africa, I imagine you feel it keenly,’ he said. ‘I should
warn you here and now that Walwyk is much colder than London.’

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