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Updated: June 15, 2025
There are, perhaps, some still living who have survived the tempestuous life of the ordinary Fleet Street "newspaper man" of twenty or thirty years ago; perhaps one or two among these remember Claude Aglen but he was so short a time with them that it is not likely; those who do remember him will understand that the way to success, rough and thorny for all, for such as Aglen was impossible.
"Do you know that he reproached himself?" "I know what must have happened when he found out his mistake. Then he went to America, where he died, no doubt in despair, although his father had forgiven him." "The cases are hardly parallel," said Arnold. "Still, will you permit me to introduce Miss Aglen to you, if she should do me the honor of accepting me? Be generous, Clara.
And this man was also the thief of the safe, and Iris Aglen was Iris Deseret. Of that, Arnold had no longer any reasonable doubt. There was, however, one thing more. Before leaving Clara's house, he refreshed his memory as to the Deseret arms. The quarterings of the shield were, so far, exactly what Mr. Emblem recollected. "It is," said Lala Roy, "what I thought. But, as yet, not a word to Iris."
My tutor is a young lady, and this is her portrait, half-finished. It does not do her any kind of justice." "A young lady!" She looked suspiciously at Arnold, whose telltale cheek flushed. "A young lady! Indeed! And you have made her acquaintance." "As you see, Clara; and she does me the honor to let me paint her portrait." "What is her name, Arnold?" "She is a Miss Aglen." "Strange.
"Iris," said Arnold, "lift your veil, my dear. Mr. Farrar, who is this young lady? Look upon this face, Clara." "This is the daughter of Claude Deseret," said Mr. Farrar, "if she is the daughter of the man who married Alice Emblem, and went by the name of Aglen." Clara turned a terrified face to Arnold. "Arnold, help me!" "Whose face is this?" he repeated.
And now, although you know so much about me, you have told me nothing about yourself not even your name." "My name is Iris Aglen." "Iris! It is a pretty name!" "It was, I believe, my grandmother's. But I never saw her, and I do not know who or what my father's relations are." "Iris Aglen!" he repeated.
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