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Updated: June 25, 2025
Farquaharson, despite the storm which raged in his heart, answered with every outward show of calmness, even with dignity. "You accuse me of having made love to your daughter. For that I have no denial. I have loved her since she was a child.
But he couldn't tell you himself, without discrediting me and there was no one else to do it." "Even so I don't quite see " But Mrs. Holbury cut her short with an imperious gesture and her voice held a vibrant thrill of feeling. "You say that Stuart Farquaharson stands for a past chapter in your thoughts. I love him and I know him.
Driven by wanderlust and an unappeasable discontent, Stuart Farquaharson had been in many remote places. Around those towns which were Meccas for tourists he made wide detours.
The fire, playing on the ivory of her cheeks and the bosom more softly white than the checks, seemed to awaken a ghost of flickering mockery about her smiling lips. Then, drawing upon his unwonted strength of the hour, Eben Tollman moved the other figure until what had been Stuart Farquaharson sat beside what had been Conscience Tollman in lover-like proximity.
"I mean that anyone who wasn't deliberately trying to be deceived ought to see what all this radiant happiness is worth. She's sick with doubt and misgiving. If you ask me I believe it's because she still loves Stuart Farquaharson and besides I don't believe he was ever given a fair chance." The girl halted and then broke into silent tears.
"This evening you are coming aboard to dine with me," announced Hancock when he had finished his drink and risen, "and after dinner a handful of people will arrive for an informal dance on deck." But Farquaharson gave an excuse. He felt weary and shrank from those inevitable confidences which must ensue.
Stuart Farquaharson had a sensation of hills and woods whirling in glorified riot through an infinity of moon mists and star dust. He felt suddenly mature and strong and catching her in his arms he pressed her close, kissing her hair and temples until she, fluttering with the wildness of her first embrace of love, turned her lips up to his kisses.
If his knowledge of actual occurrences was sketchy his imagination had filled all the blank spaces with colorful substitutes for fact. "Stuart," he demanded suddenly, "what's happened to you? You've hurt your right hand and you're trying to conceal it." "It's nothing much," explained Farquaharson lamely.
"I have thought well," he vehemently declared. "I have not only thought, but I have prayed. I have waited silently and watched in an effort to be just. I have asked God's guidance." "God's guidance could hardly have told you that Stuart Farquaharson has loose ideas or that he's unrighteous or that his blood could corrupt our blood because none of those things are true or akin to the truth."
In the life of Stuart Farquaharson the acceptance of that invitation would have passed as a disconnected incident had it been altogether a matter of his choosing, but he had let himself be caught. Mrs. Reinold Heath had chosen to present him as her personal candidate for lionizing and whom she captured she held in bondage.
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