curtly benevolent in the manner of clubmen
somewhat eased the tension in Edwin. They addressed him as
`Clayhanger.' The eldest and the youngest child of the family sat at
the piano in the act of performing a duet. Tom, pale, slight,
near-sighted and wearing spectacles, had reached the age of thirty-two,
and was junior partner in a firm of solicitors at Hanbridge; Bursley
seldom saw him. Alicia had the delightful gawkiness of twelve years.
One only of the seven children was missing. Marian, aged thirty, and
married in London, with two little babies; Marian was adored by all her
brothers and sisters, and most by Janet, who, during visits of the
married sister, fell back with worshipping joy into her original
situation of second daughter.

Edwin, Charles, and Janet sat down on a sofa. It was not until after a
moment that Edwin noticed an ugly young woman who sat behind the players
and turned over the pages of music for them. "Surely that can't be his
wonderful Hilda!" Edwin thought. In the excitement of arrival he had
forgotten the advertised Hilda. Was that she? The girl could be no
other. Edwin made the reflection that all men make: "Well, it's
astonishing what other fellows like!" And, having put down Charlie
several points in his esteem, he forgot Hilda.

Evidently loud and sustained conversation was not expected nor desired
while the music lasted. And Edwin was glad of this. It enabled him to
get his breath and his bearings in what was to him really a tremendous
ordeal. And in fact he was much more agitated than even he imagined.
The room itself abashed him.

Everybody, including Mr Orgreave, had said that the Clayhanger
drawing-room with its bay-window was a fine apartment. But the Orgreave
drawing-room had a bay-window and another large window; it was twice as
big as the Clayhangers' and of an interesting irregular shape. Although
there were in it two unoccupied expanses of carpet, it nevertheless
contained what seemed to Edwin immense quantities of furniture of all
sorts. Easy-chairs were common, and everywhere. Several bookcases rose
to the low ceiling; dozens and dozens of pictures hid the walls; each
corner had its little society of objects; cushions and candlesticks
abounded; the piano was a grand, and Edwin was astounded to see another
piano, a small upright, in the farther distance; there were even two
fireplaces, with two mirrors, two clocks, two sets of ornaments, and two
embroidered