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Updated: June 25, 2025
He was serious because he was listening to serious news she told herself. But it was more than this: he had shut himself up, he was impenetrable. Shame seized her; yes, and anger; and shame again at the remembrance of her talk with Euphrasia and anger once more. Could he think that she would make advances to tempt his honour, and risk his good opinion and her own?
"I don't have to use my legs as much as I once did," said Tom. And this remark brought to an end the first phase of this conversation, brought to an end, apparently, all conversation whatsoever. Tom racked his brain for a new topic, opened his roll-top desk, drummed on it, looked up at the ceiling and whistled softly, and then turned and faced again the imperturbable Euphrasia.
They drove through the yellow sunlight to Ripton, with lingering looks at the hills which brought back memories of boys and sorrows, and in Hanover Street bade good-by to Hilary Vane. A new and strange contentment shone in his face as he took Victoria's hands in his, and they sat with him until Euphrasia came.
"I'm all right," said Hilary, once more, and to prove it he stepped not very steadily across the threshold into the hall, and sat down on a chair which had had its place at the foot of the stairs from time immemorial. Euphrasia stood still. "I think," said Victoria, "that Mr. Vane had better see a doctor. Have you a telephone?" "No, we haven't," said Euphrasia. Victoria turned to Mr.
Raphael recollected the mocking wish with which he had accepted the old man's luckless gift, and tasted all the sweets of revenge when he beheld the spectacle of sublime wisdom fallen to such a depth as this, wisdom for which such humiliation had seemed a thing impossible. The centenarian greeted Euphrasia with a ghastly smile, receiving her honeyed words in reply.
It had been, you know, a great part of my aunt Siddons's, and nothing better proves her great dramatic genius than her having clothed so meager a part in such magnificent proportions as she gave to it, and filled out by her own poetical conception the bare skeleton Mr. Murphy's Euphrasia presented to her.
For the moment Hilary Vane, under this traitorous influence, was unable to speak. But he let the hand rest on his shoulder, and at length was able to pronounce, in a shamefully shaky voice, the name of his son. Whereupon Austen seized him by the other shoulder and turned him round and looked into his face. "The same old Judge," he said. But Hilary was startled, even as Euphrasia had been.
This trouble of his was the common point on which he and Euphrasia touched, and they touched only to quarrel. Let us out with it Hilary Vane had a wild son, whose name was Austen. Euphrasia knew that in his secret soul Mr. Vane attributed this wildness, and what he was pleased to designate as profligacy, to the Austen blood. And Euphrasia resented it bitterly.
Austen coloured. "The distance is nothing," he said quickly, "with Pepper." "And you'll come and see me?" asked Euphrasia. "If you'll do something for me," he said. "I always do what you want, Austen. You know I'm not able to refuse you." He laid his hands on her shoulders. "You'll promise?" he asked. "I'll promise," said Euphrasia, solemnly. He was silent for a moment, looking down at her.
Worse things than finance are troubling him now." "Not a woman!" cried Euphrasia, horror-stricken at the very thought. "He hasn't took it into his head after all these years " "No," said Austen, laughing, "no, no. It's not quite as bad as that, but it's pretty bad." "In Heaven's name, what is it?" she demanded. "Reformers," said Austen. "Reformers?" she repeated. "What might they be?"
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