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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Denzil Quarrier"

" Glazzard replied, tapping the back of his hand
with a tool.
"Discontented, as usual! I know nothing about this kind of thing,
but I should say it was very good. Makes one uncomfortable--
doesn't it, Mrs. Glazzard? Do something pleasanter next time."
"Precisely what I was saying," fell from Serena.
They talked awhile, and Mrs. Glazzard left the room.
"I want to know your mind on a certain point," said Denzil. "Mrs.
Wade has been asking me to bring her together with your wife and
you. Now, what is your feeling?"
The other stood in hesitation, but his features expressed no
pleasure.
"What is _your_ feeling?" he asked, in return.
"Why, to tell you the truth, I can't advise you to make a friend of
her. I'm sorry to say she has got into a very morbid state of mind.
I see more of her than I care to. She has taken up with a lot of
people I don't like--rampant women--extremists of many kinds.
There's only one thing: it's perhaps my duty to try and get her into
a more sober way of life, and if all steady-going people reject her
----Still, I don't think either you or your wife would like to have
her constantly coming here."
"I think not," said Glazzard, with averted face.
"Well, I shall tell her that she would find you very unsympathetic.
I'm sorry for her; I wish she could recover a healthy mind."
He brooded for a moment, and the lines that came into his face gave
it an expression of unrest and melancholy out of keeping with its
natural tone.


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