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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Denzil Quarrier"

"
"Confound it! then I will say what I think, and k it. If they want a
man who will fight sincerely for the interests of the people, here
he is! I'm on the side of the poor devils; I wish to see them better
off; I wish to promote honest government, and chuck the selfish
lubbers overboard. Forgive the briny phrase; you know why it comes
natural to me."
Mrs. Wade gave him her kindest smile.
"You will win, no doubt of it; and not this battle only."
She rose, and half turned away.
"By-the-bye, shall you be able to finish your book?"
"It is finished. I wrote the last page yesterday morning. Wonderful,
wasn't it?"
"A good omen. My love to Lilian."
As they shook hands, Mrs. Wade just raised her eyes for an instant,
timorously. The look was quite unlike anything Denzil had yet seen
on her face. It caused him to stand for a few moments musing.
From half-past four to half-past six he took a long walk; such
exercise was a necessity with him, and the dwellers round about
Polterham had become familiar with the sight of his robust figure
striding at a great pace about roads and fields. Generally he made
for some wayside inn, where he could refresh himself with a tankard
of beer, after which he lit his pipe, and walked with it between his
teeth. Toby Liversedge, becoming aware of this habit, was inclined
to doubt its prudence.


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