What could be said of the man who had thus transferred
her, all (or chiefly) for the sake of getting elected to Parliament?
Quarrier had no true appreciation of the woman with whose life and
happiness he was entrusted. He was devoted to her, no doubt, but
with a devotion not much more clairvoyant than would have
distinguished one of his favourite Vikings.
Glazzard, whilst liking Denzil, had never held him in much esteem.
Of late, his feelings had become strongly tinged with contempt. And
now, with the contempt there blended a strain of jealousy.
True that he himself had caught eagerly at the hope of entering
Parliament; but it was the impulse of a man who knew his life to be
falling into ruin, who welcomed any suggestion that would save him
from final and fatal apathy--of a man whose existence had always
been loveless--who, with passionate ideals, had never known
anything but a venal embrace. In Quarrier's position, with abounding
resources, with the love of such a woman as this, what would he not
have made of life? Would it ever have occurred to _him_ to wear a
mask of vulgar deceit, to condemn his exquisite companion to a
hateful martyrdom, that he might attain the dizzy height of
M.P.-ship for Polterham?
He compassionated Lilian, and at the same time he was angry with
her. He looked upon her beauty, her gentle spirit, with tenderness,
and therewithal he half hoped that she might some day repent of
yielding to Quarrier's vulgar ambition.
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