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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Denzil Quarrier"

Lilian did
not dislike it, rather was drawn by it into a mood of grateful
confidence.
"I don't think 'weakness' expresses it," she objected. "He likes
women to be subordinate, no doubt of that. His idea is that"----
"I know, I know!" Mrs. Wade turned away with a smile her companion
did not observe. "Let us walk back again; it grows chilly. A
beautiful sunset, if clouds don't gather. Perhaps it surprises you
that I care for such sentimental things?"
"I think I understand you better."
"Frankly--do you think me what the French call _hommasse_? Just a
little?"
"Nothing of the kind, Mrs. Wade," Lilian replied, with courage. "You
are a very womanly woman."
The bright, hard eyes darted a quick glance at her.
"Really? That is how I strike you?"
"It is, indeed."
"How I like your way of speaking," said the other, after a moment's
pause. "I mean, your voice--accent. Has it anything to do with the
long time you have spent abroad, I wonder?"
Lilian smiled and was embarrassed.
"You are certainly not a Londoner?"
"Oh no! I was born in the west of England."
"And I at Newcastle. As a child I had a strong northern accent; you
don't notice anything of it now? Oh, I have been about so much. My
husband was m the Army. That is the first time I have mentioned him
to you, and it will be the last, however long we know each other.


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