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Updated: May 8, 2025
It's really astonishing that, with your talents, you should be content to go on teaching children their A. B. C. You have no energy, Dyce, and no ambition. By this time you might have been in the diplomatic service, you might have been in Parliament. Are you going to waste your whole life?"
"Of course I do," answered Dyce, meditatively. "Yes, it's fine. It increases my respect for our friend." "I have always respected her," said Constance, "and I am sorry now that I did not respect her more. Often she has irritated me, and in bad temper I have spoken thoughtlessly. I remember that letter I wrote you, before you first came to Rivenoak; it was silly, and, I'm afraid, rather vulgar."
Dyce gave an account of the state of politics at Hollingford, sketching the character of Mr. Robb on the lines suggested by Breakspeare. As she listened, Mrs. Woolstan had much ado to preserve outward calm; she was flushed with delight; words of enthusiasm trembled on her lips. "When will the election be?" she asked in the first pause. "Certainly not this year.
Dyce stood up and took a few steps about the floor, his eyes fixed on the marble bust. "When can I see you again?" he asked abruptly. "I shall be going to London in a day or two; I don't think we will meet again until your circumstances are better. Can you give me any idea of what the election expenses will be?" "Not yet," Dyce answered, in an undertone. "You are going to London?
"How annoying that I shan't be able to see you again!" cried Lashmar. "But shan't you be coming to Rivenoak?" "Not for some time, very likely. And when I do " The train stopped. Dyce helped his companion to alight, and moved along to seek for a place for her in the section which went to Hollingford. Suddenly an alarmed voice from one of the carriage-doors shouted "Guard! Station-master!"
We have subjected his volumes to a laborious examination such as few books receive, because the text of Shakspeare is a matter of common and great concern, and they have borne the trial, except in these few impertinent particulars, admirably. Mr. Dyce and Mr. Singer are only dry commonplace-books of illustrative quotations; Mr. Collier has not wholly recovered from his "Corr. fo."-madness; Mr.
When Dyce shook out and held up a faded, dingy blue silk handkerchief, the lawyer noted a sudden twinkle in the old man's eyes, but no other feature moved, and he stooped to take a coal of fire from the hearth. "There is the hankchuf that Bedney found. But mebbe you don't know what this is, that I wrapped up in it, to bring us good luck?"
"Then come back, and ask for Miss Bride, and you'll find her here." She was at the end of her strength, and could barely make the last words audible. Dyce pressed her hand silently, and withdrew. After the imposed interval, he returned from a ramble in Piccadilly, where he had seen nothing, and was conducted again to the drawing-room. There Constance sat reading.
Dyce felt inclined to object to this, but Constance's face did not invite to further talk on the point. "At all events," he continued, "it seems no other candidate has been spoken of. The party isn't sanguine; they look upon Robb as an unassailable; sedet in aeter-numque sedebit. But we shall see about it. Presently I should like to talk over practical details with you.
Lady Ogram had not named the hour of luncheon, but it seemed to Dyce that he could hardly present himself at Rivenoak before one o'clock; so, instead of directing his steps towards the lodge; he struck off into a by-road, where the new-opened leafage of the hawthorn glistened after the morning's showers.
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