Hospitality had been duly cared for. Not at all inclined to the
simple fare which Denzil chose to believe would suffice for him,
Glazzard found more satisfaction in the meal than he had
anticipated. If Mrs. Quarrier were responsible for the _menu_ (he
doubted it), she revealed yet another virtue. The mysterious
circumstances of this household puzzled him more and more;
occasionally he forgot to speak, or to listen, in the intensity of
his preoccupation; and at such moments his countenance darkened.
On the whole, however, he seemed in better spirits than of wont.
Quarrier was in the habit of seeing him perhaps once a month, and it
was long since he had heard the connoisseur discourse so freely, so
unconcernedly. As soon as they were seated at table, Denzil began to
talk of politics.
"If my brother-in-law really stands for Polterham," he exclaimed,
"we must set you canvassing among the mill-hands, Glazzard!"
"H'm!--not impossible."
"As much as to say," remarked the other to Lilian, "that he would
see them all consumed in furnaces before he stretched forth a hand
to save them."
"I know very well how to understand Denzil's exaggerations," said
Lilian, with a smile to her guest.
"He thinks," was Glazzard's reply, "that I am something worse than a
high Tory. It's quite a mistake, and I don't know how his belief
originated.
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