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Wimp let out as much at the Christmas dinner? "What's past is past," he said gruffly. "But if Tom Mortlake hangs, you go to Portland." "How can I help Tom hanging?" "Help the agitation as much as you can. Write letters under all sorts of names to all the papers. Get everybody you know to sign the great petition. Find out where Jessie Dymond is the girl who holds the proof of Mortlake's innocence."
With each different sinister noise, Roger Dymond felt his hold over himself gradually going ... going.... Next to him in the trench crouched Newman, a soldier who had been in his platoon in the old days when they tramped, sweating and half-dead, along the broiling roads towards Paris. "They'm a blasted lot too free with their iron crosses and other souvenirs," growled that excellent fellow.
And even into the darkness and into their passion there had come a difference, subtle, estranging, and profound. Between them there remained that sense of irremediable wrong. In Violet it roused resentment and in Ransome a tender yet austere responsibility. For he blamed himself for it. Violet blamed the Baby. And in those three months Winny Dymond came and went.
Randall sat alone in the back sitting-room at Granville and meditated miserably on those things. Upstairs in his bedroom overhead she could hear Ranny moving very softly, for fear of waking Stanley. She knew what he was doing. He was changing, making himself smart enough to take Winny Dymond to the Earl's Court Exhibition.
It removed Violet herself from her place in memory, that place of magic and of charm where if she had remained she would have had power to hurt him. When he considered her letter yet again in the calmness of that thought, it struck him that Violet herself was offering him support and consolation. "You shouldn't have married me. You should have married a girl like Winny Dymond."
SPIGOT, Q.C.: "That will do, thank you, Mrs. Drabdump." BROWN-HARLAND, Q.C.: "No; one question more, Mrs. Drabdump. Did you ever see anything say, when Miss Dymond came to your house to make you suspect anything between Mr. Constant and the prisoner's sweetheart?" "She did meet him once when Mr. Mortlake was out." "Where did she meet him?" "In the passage.
He said he thought that, considering the lateness of the hour and the loneliness of the scene, it was better that he should accompany her. "But I can accompany myself," said she. He smiled at the vision of Miss Dymond accompanying herself, at eleven o'clock at night, too the idea! He smiled at it as if he saw in it something tender and absurd.
Before leaving London or England Miss Dymond wrote to her aunt in Devonport her only living relative in this country asking her as a great favour to forward an addressed letter to the prisoner, a fortnight after receipt. The aunt obeyed implicitly. This was the letter which fell like a thunderbolt on the prisoner on the night of December 3rd.
If the high educational standard presented in the scholastic treatise of Barclay and the moral philosophy of Dymond has been lowered or disowned by many who, still retaining the name of Quakerism, have lost faith in the vital principle wherein precious testimonials of practical righteousness have their root, and have gone back to a dead literalness, and to those materialistic ceremonials for leaving which our old confessors suffered bonds and death, Haverford, at least, has been in a good degree faithful to the trust committed to it.
Right and left they wheeled, and right and left ranged themselves in two long lines under the galleries. Now they were marking time with the stiff rise and fall of black stockings under the short tunics. Facing them, at the head of her rank, was Winny Dymond, very upright and earnest. And with each movement of her hips the crimson sash of leadership swung in rhythm at her side.
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