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Updated: June 12, 2025
At this characteristic speech, the five artists shifted slightly, and looked at De Gollyer over their mustaches with a lingering appetite, much as a group of terriers respect the family cat. "My dear chaps, speaking as a critic," continued De Gollyer, pleasantly aware of the antagonism he had exploded, "you remain children afraid of the dark afraid of being alone. Solitude frightens you.
Over his face passed an expression such as comes but once in a lifetime; a look defying analysis; a look that sweeps back over the past and challenges the future and always retains the secret of its judgment. De Gollyer, drawing back slowly, allowed him a moment before saying: "And no alimony!" "What?" "Free and no alimony, my boy!" "No alimony?" said Lightbody, surprised at this new reasoning.
I can't believe it!" ejaculated De Gollyer, too astounded to indulge his sense of humor. All at once a little fury seemed to seize Lightbody. His voice rose and his gestures became indignant. "Married! I've been married to a policeman. Why, Jim, do you know what I've spent on myself, really spent? Not two thousand, not one thousand, not five hundred dollars a year.
Then he halted with an exclamation, and hastily turned the page for the signature. "Read!" said Lightbody in a stifled voice. "I say, this is serious, devilishly serious," said De Gollyer, now thoroughly amazed. Immediately he began to read, unconsciously emphasizing the emphatic words a little trick of his enunciation.
When De Gollyer had seen the eagerness in his friend's eyes, the imps returned, ironically tumbling back. He slapped him on the shoulder as Mephistopheles might gleefully claim his own, crying, "Immense!" "You know, Jim," said Lightbody, straightening up, nervously alert, speaking in quick, eager accents, "it's what I've dreamed of a chance at one of the big beggars.
At the door, De Gollyer, who, when he couldn't leave on an epigram, liked to recall the best thing he had said, turned: "Never again, eh, old boy?" "Never," cried Lightbody, with the voice of a cannon. "No social sounding-board for us, eh?" "Never again!" "You do like that, don't you? I say a good thing now and then, don't I?"
De Gollyer had a similar incident to recall. Steingall, after reflection, related another that had happened to a friend. "Of course, of course, my dear gentlemen," said Quinny impatiently, for he had been silent too long, "you are glorifying commonplaces. Every crime, I tell you, expresses itself in the terms of the picture puzzle that you feed to your six-year-old.
All at once he felt a weight on his arm, and heard De Gollyer saying, vainly: "Dear boy, be calm, be calm." "Calm!" he cried, with a scream, his anger suddenly focusing on his friend, "Calm! I won't be calm! What!
Kildair, of course, is all you say of her an extraordinary woman. The story is quite characteristic of her. Flanders, I am not sure of, but I think I know him." "Did it really happen?" asked Rankin, who always took the commonplace point of view. "Exactly as I have told it," said Peters. "The only one I don't recognize is Harris," said De Gollyer pensively.
He began to pace up and down, declaiming at his friend, "I was happy, ideally happy. I never had a thought, not one, for anything else. I gave her everything. I did everything she wanted. There never was a word between us. It was ideal" De Gollyer, somewhat shamefaced, avoiding his angry glance, said hastily: "So, so, I was quite wrong. I beg your pardon."
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