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Updated: June 14, 2025
The theatre was discussed, Mr. Vialls assailing it as a mere agent of popular corruption. On the mention of the name of Shakespeare, Mr. Mumbray exclaimed: "Shakespeare needs a great deal of expurgating. But some of his plays teach a good lesson, I think. There is 'I read Romeo and Juliet, for instance." Glazzard looked up in surprise.
We shall live there for several weeks, and about the end of the time I shall write to my people here, and tell them that I have just been married." He paused. Glazzard made no motion, and uttered no sound. "I have already dropped a mysterious word or two to my sister, which she will be able to interpret afterwards. Happily, I am thought a likely fellow to do odd, unconventional things.
Quarrier walked in at about a quarter-past six, savoury odours saluted him from the threshold. Glazzard had not yet arrived, but in less than five minutes a private carriage drew up to the door, and the friends hailed each other. The room prepared for them lay well apart from the bar, with its small traffic.
Glazzard perceived that she had read diligently, and with scope beyond that of the circulating library; the book with which she had been engaged when they entered was a Danish novel. "Do you also look for salvation to the Scandinavians?" he asked. "I read the languages the modern.
"Some day, old boy some day!" assented Denzil, with a superb smile. There followed much handshaking, and the visitors returned to their carriage. As it moved away, Glazzard put his head out of the window, waved his hand, and cried merrily: "Quarrier for ever!" In the interviews with Mr. Marks, Arthur Northway did not show at his best.
So far from this, she found herself under the scrutiny of two well-dressed men, whose faces, however courteous, manifested the signature of a critical spirit. The elder Mr. Glazzard was bald, wrinkled, and of aristocratic bearing; he wore gold-rimmed glasses, which accentuated the keenness of his gaze.
Darkness was falling when Quarrier set forth to keep his appointment with Eustace Glazzard at the Coach and Horses Inn. The road-lamps already glimmered; there would be no moon, but a soft dusky glow lingered over half the sky, and gave promise of a fair night.
Guests were seldom entertained; the servants were few, and not well looked after. "She has, I dare say, thirty thousand," William Glazzard was saying, with an air of indifference. "I suppose she'll marry some parson. Let us hope it's one of the fifty-pound curates." "Deep in the old slough?" "Hopelessly or Ivy wouldn't be so thick with her."
Perusal of old letters will not generally conduce to cheerfulness, and Glazzard once more felt his spirits sink, his brain grow feverishly active. Within reach of where he sat was a railway time-table; he took it up, turned to the Great Western line, pondered, finally looked at his watch.
Hospitality had been duly cared for. Not at all inclined to the simple fare which Denzil chose to believe would suffice for him, Glazzard found more satisfaction in the meal than he had anticipated. If Mrs.
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