His very soul was on fire at the idea of clutching the weak bishop in his hand, and crushing him with his strong grasp.
In the afternoon Mrs.Crawley slipped out to a neighbouring farmer's wife, and returned in an hour's time with a little story which she did not tell with any appearance of eager satisfaction.

She had learned well what were the little tricks necessary to the carrying of such a matter as that which she had now in hand.

Mr.Mangle, the farmer, as it happened, was going to-morrow morning in his tax-cart as far as Framley Mill, and would be delighted if Mr.Crawley would take a seat.

He must remain at Framley the best part of the afternoon, and hoped that Mr.Crawley would take a seat back again.

Now Framley Mill was only half a mile off the direct road to Barchester, and was almost half way from Hogglestock parsonage to the city.