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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Denzil Quarrier"

Then she hastened to the excitement of canvassing, as
another might have turned to more vulgar stimulants. Certainly her
health had suffered. She could not engage in quiet study, still less
could rest her mind in solitary musing, as in the old days.
Denzil seated himself by her on the sofa.
"If you are to suffer in this way, little girl, I shall repent
sorely that ever I went in for politics."
"How absurd of me! I can't think why I behave so ridiculously!"
But still she sobbed, resting her head against him.
"I have an idea," he said at length, rendered clairvoyant by his
affection, "that after next week you will feel much easier in your
mind."
"After next week?"
"Yes; when Glazzard is married and gone away."
She would not confess that he was right, but her denials
strengthened his surmise.
"I can perfectly understand it, Lily. It certainly was unfortunate;
and if it had been any one but Glazzard, I might myself have been
wishing the man away. But you know as well as I do that Glazzard
would not breathe a syllable."
"Not even to his wife?" she whispered.
"Not even to her! I assure you"--he smiled--"men have no
difficulty in keeping important secrets, Samson notwithstanding.
Glazzard would think himself for ever dishonoured. But in a week's
time they will be gone; and I shouldn't wonder if they remain abroad
for years.


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