"Glazzard, here is your moment. Here is your chance of getting what
you want. Liversedge is reluctant to stand; I know that for certain.
To a more promising man he'll yield with pleasure.--St! st! listen
to me!--you are that man. Go down; see Toby; see the wiseacres and
wire-pullers; get your name in vogue! It's cut out for you. Act now,
or never again pretend that you want a chance."
A smile of disdain settled upon Glazzard's lips, but his eyes had
lost their vacancy.
"On the Radical side?" he asked, mockingly. "For Manchester and
Brummagem?"
"For Parliament, my dear boy! For Westminster, St. Stephen's,
distinction, a career! I should perhaps have thought of your taking
Welwyn-Baker's place, but there are many reasons against it. You
would lose the support of your brother and all his friends. Above
all, Polterham will go Liberal--mark my prediction!"
"I doubt it."
"I haven't time to give you all my reasons. Dine with me this
evening, will you?"
"Can't. Engaged to Quarrier."
"All right!" said the latter. "To-morrow, then?"
"Yes, I will dine to-morrow."
Mr. Stark jumped up.
"Think of it. I can't talk longer now; there's the voice of a client
I'm expecting. Eight sharp tomorrow!"
Glazzard took his leave.
CHAPTER III
Like so many other gentlemen whose function in the world remains
indefinite, chiefly because of the patrimony they have inherited,
Denzil Quarrier had eaten his dinners, and been called to the Bar;
he went so far in specification as to style himself Equity
barrister.
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