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Updated: May 21, 2025
George Aspel and Philip Maylands, with their backs to the storm, hurried homewards; the former exulting in the grand though somewhat disconnected thoughts infused into his fiery soul by the fire-water he had imbibed, and dreaming of what he would have dared and done had he only been a sea-king of the olden time; the latter meditating somewhat anxiously on the probable nature of his sister's telegram.
There she came to a full stop, turned about, raised her right hand savagely, exclaimed "You're another!" let her fingers go off with the force of a pea-cracker, and, stumbling into the street, went her devious way. When night had fairly hung its sable curtains over the great city, Mr Blurt descended to the shop. "Now, Mr Aspel, I'll relieve you.
"Of course," he said, "it is desirable that Mr Aspel should be restored to his right position in society, and be removed from the bad influence of Bones, and we must use all legitimate means for those ends; but we must not fall into the mistake of supposing that `no good can be done' by the Almighty to His sinful creatures even in the worst of circumstances.
It mattered not to which feeling the zealots leaned, Sir James smiled on them all alike. "That foolish fellow is going to be late," he muttered, glancing over his paper at the clock on the chimney-piece. The foolish fellow referred to was George Aspel. Sir James had at last discovered and had an interview with him.
Bones was a man of tremendous passions and powerful will. His soul revolted violently from the mean part he had been playing. Although he had not succeeded in drawing Aspel into the vortex of crime as regards human law, he had dragged him very low, and, especially, had fanned the flame of thirst for strong drink, which was the youth's chief at least his most dangerous enemy.
"If you could have only kept us waiting five minutes longer!" thought Aspel, but he only said "Come along, Phil, I'll go home with you to-night." The evening was fine frosty and clear. "Shall we walk to Nottinghill?" asked Phil. "It's a longish tramp for you, May, but that's the very thing you want." May agreed that it was a desirable thing in every point of view, and George Aspel did not object.
It's the very thing for me, mother, so I'll be off to-morrow if " Phil was cut short by the bursting open of the door and the sudden entrance of his friend George Aspel. "Come, Phil," he cried, blazing with excitement, "there's a wreck in the bay. Quick! there's no time to lose." The boy leaped up at once, and dashed out after his friend. It was evening.
Young Maylands would have passed the house, but as Grady was an intimate friend of George Aspel, he agreed to stop just to shake hands. Patrick Grady was the soul of hospitality. He was not to be put off with a mere shake of the hand, not he telegrams meant nothing now-a-days, he said, everybody sent them. No cause for alarm. They must stop and have a glass of mountain dew.
"Well, well," said Aspel, shrinking under the public gaze as he passed through the streets, "don't talk about that. Couldn't you get into some by-lanes, where there are not so many people? I don't like to be seen, even by strangers, in this disreputable guise. I wish the sun didn't shine so brightly. Come, push on, man."
True, the tall and stalwart young frame of George Aspel needed no refreshment at the time, and he would have scorned the insinuation that he required anything to support him but but it was decidedly refreshing! There could be no doubt whatever about that, and it induced him to take a more amiable view of men in general of "poor Abel Bones" in particular.
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