"A man gets the reading
habit, just like the morphia habit, or anything else of that kind. I
think my average is six novels a week: French, Russian, German,
Italian. No English, unless I'm in need of an emetic. What else
should I do? It's a way of watching contemporary life.--Would you
like to go and talk with Ivy? Oh, I forgot that girl."
"You wouldn't care to ask some people to dinner one of these days--
the right kind of people?"
"Yes, yes; we'll do that. I must warn you not to talk much about
art, and above all not to play the piano. It would make a bad
impression."
"All right. How shall I deal with Liversedge? I go there this
evening, you remember."
"Sound him, if opportunity offers. No hurry, you know. We have
probably several months before us. You'll have to live here a good
deal."
As the rain had ceased, they presently went out into the garden and
strolled aimlessly about.
CHAPTER VII
No sooner had Mr. Liversedge become aware of his brother-in-law's
promise to appear on the platform, than he despatched a note to Mr.
Wykes, recommending exceptional industry in spreading the
announcement. These addresses were not commonly of a kind to excite
much interest, nor had the name of Mr. Denzil Quarrier any prestige
in Polterham; it occasioned surprise when messengers ran about the
town distributing handbills, which gave a general invitation
(independent of membership) to that evening's lecture at the
Institute.
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