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Updated: June 28, 2025
To-night she ate and drank with a bitter sense of her poverty and loneliness. Before her mind's eye was the picture of Denzil Quarrier's study its luxury, brightness, wealth of volumes; and Denzil's face made an inseparable part of the scene. That face had never ceased to occupy her imagination since the evening of his lecture at the Institute.
He went to the telephone and called up the Cavalry Club. Yes, Captain Ardayre was in, and presently Denzil's voice said surprisedly: "Hullo!" "I heard by chance that you were in town. I suppose your regiment will be going out at once. It is your cousin, John Ardayre, speaking, we have not met since you were a boy. I have something rather vital I want to say to you. Could you possibly come round?"
"Oh, you did shake hands?" queried Dr. Dean, meditatively. "Well, there was no harm in that. You were right. You and Gervase will meet no more in this life, believe me! He and the Princess Ziska have undoubtedly, as you say, fled together but not to Thebes!" He paused a moment, then laid his hand kindly on Denzil's shoulder.
"Well, what have you been doin' all this time?" "Why, what should I be doing?" "How should I know what became of you? I thought it was another murder." "What!" Denzil's glass dashed to fragments on the floor. "What do you mean?" But Mrs. Crowl was glaring too viciously at Mr. Crowl to reply. He understood the message as if it were printed. It ran: "You have broken one of my best glasses.
Whatever Sir Denzil's ideas might be upon the question of creed and he did not scruple to tell Angela that he thought every Papist foredoomed to everlasting punishment he showed so much pleasure in her society as to be at Chilton Abbey, and the sharer of her walks and rides, as often as possible. Lady Fareham encouraged his visits, and was always gracious to him.
In Madeira he chanced to make acquaintance with an oldish man who had been in Parliament for a good many years; a Radical, an idealist, sore beset with physical ailments. This gentleman found pleasure in Denzil's society, talked politics to him with contagious fervour, and greatly aided the natural process whereby Quarrier was recovering his interest in the career before him.
Denzil's head was squat upon his shoulders, and his long, handsome body was also squat, because his legs were as short, proportionately, as his mind was long.
Two years ago Mortlake had to struggle with my calligraphy now he is in with all the nobs, and goes to the 'At Homes' of the aristocracy." "Radical M.P.'s," murmured Wimp, smiling. "While I am still barred from the dazzling drawing-rooms, where beauty and intellect foregather. A mere artisan! A manual labourer!" Denzil's eyes flashed angrily. He rose with excitement.
"But as for Christmas, 'tis one of those superstitious observances which I have ever associated with a Church I abhor." Denzil reddened furiously. To have brought this upon his beloved! Angela drew herself up, and paled at the unexpected assault. The brutality of it was startling, though she knew, from Denzil's opinions, that his mother must be an enemy of her faith.
Then they parted for the night with much of the disturbance and the complex emotions removed from Denzil's heart. When Verisschenzko reached Paris and discovered the desecration of the Ikon, an icy rage came over him. He knew, even before questioning his old servant, that it could only be the work of Harietta. Jealousy alone would be the cause of such a wanton act.
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