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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Denzil Quarrier"


"If you go there," he said, "I must be with you."
Lilian made no answer, but moved away. They passed into the road,
tinned towards the cottage. On reaching the gate, Lilian saw Mrs.
Wade standing just before her.
"I must speak to you" she said, holding out her hands impulsively.
Mrs. Wade looked from her to the man in the background, who again
had awkwardly raised his hat--a cheap but new cylinder, which,
together with his slop-made coat and trousers, classed him among
uncertain specimens of humanity.
"Will you let him come in?" Lilian whispered, a sob at length
breaking her voice.
The widow was perfectly self-possessed. Her eyes gleamed very
brightly and glanced hither and thither with the keenest scrutiny.
She held Lilian's hand, answering in a low voice:
"Trust me, dear! I'm so glad you have come. What is his name?"
"Mr. Northway."
Mrs. Wade addressed him, and invited him to enter; but Northway,
having ascertained that there was no escape from the cottage which
he could not watch, drew back.
"Thank you," he said; "I had rather wait out here. If that lady
wants me, I shall be within reach."
Mrs. Wade nodded, and drew her friend in. Lilian of a sudden lost
her physical strength; she had to be supported, almost carried, into
the sitting-room. The words of kindness with which Mrs. Wade sought
to recover her had a natural enough effect; they invited an
hysterical outbreak, and for several minutes the sufferer wailed
helplessly.


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