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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Would not Nancy Banister take the part better, Maggie?" said Miss Claydon, a tall, graceful girl, who was to be Psyche. "No; Nancy is to be Cyril. She sings well and can do the part admirably. Miss Peel must be the Prince: I will have no other lover. What do you say, Miss Peel?" "I cannot; it is impossible," almost whispered Prissie.
He continued to improve and toward spring we began to feel that, as he had said, he might yet travel a long way without being towed. One evening, on returning to town after a visit which had confirmed my sense of reassurance, I found Claydon dining alone at the club. He asked me to join him and over the coffee our talk turned to his work.
I was sorry, for I had always felt that he and I stood nearer Ralph than the others, and if the old Sundays were to be renewed I should have preferred that we two should spend the first alone with him. I said as much to Claydon and offered to fit my time to his; but he met this by a general refusal. "I don't want to go to Grancy's," he said bluntly.
Claydon was incalculable enough for me to read a dozen different meanings into his words; but none of my interpretations satisfied me. I determined, at any rate, to seek no farther for a companion; and the next Sunday I travelled down to Grancy's alone. He met me at the station and I saw at once that he had changed since our last meeting.
It was to the rigour of the climate that Felix Neff was eventually compelled to succumb. Yet much has been done of late years for the amelioration of the French Vaudois; and among the most zealous workers in their behalf have been the Rev. Mr. Freemantle, rector of Claydon, Bucks, and Mr. Edward Milsom, the well-known merchant of Lyons. It was in the year 1851 that the Rev. Mr.
Grancy laid his hand on my arm. "You don't like it?" he said sadly. "Like it? I I've lost her!" I burst out. "And I've found her," he answered. "In that?" I cried with a reproachful gesture. "Yes; in that." He swung round on me almost defiantly. "The other had become a sham, a lie! This is the way she would have looked does look, I mean. Claydon ought to know, oughtn't he?" I turned suddenly.
Grancy was in the room, her presence reflecting itself in our talk like a gleam of sky in a hurrying current, Claydon, averted from the real woman, would sit as it were listening to the picture. His attitude, at the time, seemed only a part of the unusualness of those picturesque afternoons, when the most familiar combinations of life underwent a magical change.
I was staying in the deserted house when the portrait was taken away; and as the door closed on it I felt that Grancy's presence had vanished too. Was it his turn to follow her now, and could one ghost haunt another? After that, for a year or two, I heard nothing more of the picture, and though I met Claydon from time to time we had little to say to each other.
"I've called on you, Professor Kennedy, to see if I can't interest you in the campaign I am planning against drugs." Mrs. Claydon Sutphen, social leader and suffragist, had scarcely more than introduced herself when she launched earnestly into the reason for her visit to us.
"Did Claydon do this for you?" Grancy nodded. "Since your return?" "Yes. I sent for him after I'd been back a week ." He turned away and gave a thrust to the smouldering fire. I followed, glad to leave the picture behind me. Grancy threw himself into a chair near the hearth, so that the light fell on his sensitive variable face.
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