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The Cathedral by Sir Hugh Walpole
page 82 of 529 (15%)

"Anything important you wanted to see me about?" asked the Dean,
perceiving that he had laughed just a little longer than was truly
necessary.

"No, no...nothing. Only about poor Morrison. He's very bad, they tell
me...a week at most."

"Dear, dear--is that so?" said the Dean. "Poor fellow, poor fellow!"

Brandon was now acutely conscious of Ronder. Why didn't the fellow say
something instead of standing silently there with that superior look
behind his glasses? In the ordinary way he would have greeted him with his
usual hearty patronage. Now he was irritated. It was really most
unfortunate that Ronder should have witnessed his humiliation. He rose,
abruptly turning his back upon him. The fellow was laughing at him--he was
sure of it.

"Well--good-day, good-day." As he advanced to the door and looked out into
the street he was aware of the ludicrousness of going even a few steps up
the street without a hat.

Confound Ronder!

But there was scarcely any one about now. The street was almost deserted.
He peered up and down.

In the middle of the road was a small, shapeless, black object.

...His hat!
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