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"You won't be here all your life, my son," he said. "You're a rising man, remember. There's no sense in grizzling, anyhow, and you're getting round-shouldered. Why don't you do some gymnastics? You've got a swimming bath. Go and do a quarter of a mile breast-stroke every day. Jupiter! What wouldn't I give to" He broke off abruptly. "Well, I'm not going to cry for the moon either.
Granice had known Robert Denver for fifteen years watched his rise through all the stages of journalism to the Olympian pinnacle of the Investigator's editorial office. In the thick-set man with grizzling hair there were few traces left of the hungry-eyed young reporter who, on his way home in the small hours, used to "bob in" on Granice, while the latter sat grinding at his plays.
"It's no use grizzling because we can't have those fellows with us all the time," remarked Neal philosophically. "'Twas a big piece of luck our running against them at all. And I've a sort of feeling that this won't be the end of it; we'll come across them again some day or other."
He stood passive, looking out over the park with unobservant eyes. "Cheer up, I say," urged Noel. "You're such a rattling good chap, you know. I'm getting awfully fond of you." "Much obliged," said Mordaunt; but he did not seem highly gratified. In fact, his thoughts were plainly elsewhere. Noel, however, would not be satisfied with this. "What are you grizzling about?" he said. "Tell a fellow!"
That is," he corrected himself, "if I could get one person out of there before the blow up came." "Make it two," grinned Billy. "But there's no use grizzling about it. We'll have time anyway to write a letter to the girls telling them all about it. Then, ho! for the mountains and the tricky Huns! I'll be just in the humor to make it hot for them if they don't toe the scratch."
Colonel Winwood came home and asked his sister pertinent questions. He was a bald, sad-looking man with a long grizzling moustache that drooped despondently. But he had a square, obstinate chin, and his eyes, though they seldom smiled, were keen and direct, like Miss Winwood's. Romance had passed him by long since. He did not believe in paragons.
"Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, Billing and cooing is all your cheer, Sighing and singing of midnight strains Under Bonnybells' window-panes. Wait till you've come to forty year! "Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, Grizzling hair the brain doth clear; Then you know a boy is an ass, Then you know the worth of a lass, Once you have come to forty year.
Fontenoy's air of overwork was more decided than ever; his eyes had almost sunk out of sight; the complexion of his broad strong face had reddened and coarsened from lack of exercise and sleep; his brown hair was thinning and grizzling fast.
But it's no use grizzling over it now. It's all over, and he won't get married again while she's alive." This was true, for we live in England which is a morganatic empire where more than one wife at a time is not allowed. In the glorious East he might have married again and again and we could have made it all right about the wedding present.
A painter would have seized avidly on his clear-cut, yellowish face, with its black eyebrows twisting up over eyes grey or brown, one could hardly tell, and its dark grizzling hair still plentiful, in spite of those daily hours of wig.
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