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Updated: May 14, 2025
George's lesson by heart, had tested and proved its doctrine. Nevertheless he did a very inconsistent thing: before crossing the Alps he wrote to Marian Fancourt. He was aware of the perversity of this act, and it was only as a luxury, an amusement, the reward of a strenuous autumn, that he justified it.
"He's going to take me to the Park," Miss Fancourt observed to Overt with elation as they passed along the corridor that led to the street. "Ah does he go there?" Paul asked, taking the fact for a somewhat unexpected illustration of St. George's moeurs. "It's a beautiful day there'll be a great crowd. We're going to look at the people, to look at types," the girl went on.
Paul stood looking at the floor one o'clock struck, in the stillness, from a neighbouring church-tower. "Do you think she'd ever look at me?" he put to his friend at last. "Miss Fancourt as a suitor? Why shouldn't I think it? That's why I've tried to favour you I've had a little chance or two of bettering your opportunity." "Forgive my asking you, but do you mean by keeping away yourself?"
Suddenly, as he heard eleven o'clock strike, he jumped up, remembering what General Fancourt had said about his coming after dinner. He'd go he'd see her at least; perhaps he should see what it meant. He felt as if some of the elements of a hard sum had been given him and the others were wanting: he couldn't do his sum till he had got all his figures.
An exclamation from Captain Fancourt made every one look up. "There is indeed news," he exclaimed.
His tone, however, made poor Overt himself feel for the moment scantly so. "And the gentlemen?" Overt went on. "Well, sir, one of them's General Fancourt." "Ah yes, I know; thank you." General Fancourt was distinguished, there was no doubt of that, for something he had done, or perhaps even hadn't done the young man couldn't remember which some years before in India.
"Do you mean to Miss Fancourt? You're following her?" his friend asked. He answered by a question. "Oh is she going?" "Base impostor!" his ironic host went on. "I've treated you handsomely on the article of that young lady: I won't make another concession. Wait three minutes I'll be with you." He gave himself to his departing guests, accompanied the long-trained ladies to the door.
"What have I done that you should doubt it?" the young man asked with delight. Miss Fancourt turned instantly to St. George, who had now joined them, and announced triumphantly: "He's coming on Sunday this next Sunday!" "Ah my day my day too!" said the famous novelist, laughing, to their companion. "Yes, but not yours only.
"I can't believe it!" "Of course you can't with your own talent! No, no; for the rest of my life I shall only read you." "Does she know that Miss Fancourt?" "She will she will."
"Well, next year will do, for I hope you believe we're going to be friends always. Here he comes!" Miss Fancourt continued before Paul had time to respond. He made out St. George in the gaps of the crowd, and this perhaps led to his hurrying a little to say: "I hope that doesn't mean I'm to wait till next year to see you."
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