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And has this change poor Carthew's return, and all has this not mended matters?" "Well, no, sir, not a sign of it," was the reply. "Worse, we think, than ever." "Dear, dear!" said I again. "When Mr. Norris arrived, she DID seem glad to see him," he pursued; "and we were all pleased, I'm sure; for no one knows the young gentleman but what likes him. Ah, sir, it didn't last long!
Prohack, with a gift of dissimulation equal to Carthew's own, gave him an address in Bond Street. "I have another very urgent appointment," said Mr. Prohack to Miss Winstock as he sat down beside her.
I knew the name of the man Dickson his name was Carthew; I knew where the money came from that opposed us at the sale it was part of Carthew's inheritance; and in my gallery of illustrations to the history of the wreck, one more picture hung, perhaps the most dramatic of the series.
"When word came to Mr. Carthew's ears the turn-up was 'orrible," continued Mr. Higgs. "I remember it as if it was yesterday. The bell was rung after her la'ship was gone, which I answered it myself, supposing it were the coffee. There was Mr. Carthew on his feet.
It had been agreed that he was to avoid Carthew, and above all Carthew's lodging, so that no connexion might be traced between the crew and the pseudonymous purchaser. But the hour for caution was gone by, and he caught a tram and made all speed to Mission Street. Carthew met him in the door.
"We'll struggle back to town I think," said Mr. Prohack to Carthew, with a pitiable affectation of brightness. And instead of sitting by Carthew's side, as previously, he sat behind, and reflected upon the wisdom of Carthew. He had held that Carthew's views were warped by a peculiar experience. He now saw that they were not warped at all, but shapely, sane and incontrovertible.
If I stay here I know that I shall do mischief either to her or to someone else. I felt like doing it last month when she was over at that business at Squire Carthew's he is just such another one as Captain Mallett, only he is a bad landlord, while ours is a good one.
Brown's gabbling prayers, the cries of the sailors in the rigging, strains of the dead Hemstead's minstrelsy, ran together in Carthew's mind with sickening iteration. He neither acquitted nor condemned himself: he did not think he suffered.
The general feeling had been that he would win in a canter, but as it was he only beat Carthew's horse by a short head." "Had Carthew backed his horse to win?" "He told me that he had only backed it for a hundred, but had put five hundred on it for a place, and as he got six to one against it he came uncommonly well out of it." "And do you think it likely that Miss Greendale will accept him?"
Looking straight at his victim, he pursued his questions. "Why must Brown go the same way?" he asked. Wicks fell trembling on a locker. "Carthew's told you," he cried. "No," replied the doctor, "he has not. But he and you between you have set me thinking, and I think there's something wrong." "Give me some grog," said Wicks. "I'd rather tell than have you find out.
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