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Updated: September 5, 2025
That was at lunch time, and Notts had made a hundred and sixty-eight for one wicket; Mallinson was not out, a hundred and three. I saw that the Notts Eleven were in magnificent spirits. But after lunch Stott came out and took the first over. I don't know what had passed between him and Findlater, but the captain had evidently been over-persuaded. We must not blame Findlater.
On the other hand, Drake had interests in the City, had them at heart too, and, worse still, had the City itself at heart. Fielding recollected an answer he had made to Mallinson. The word 'heart' brought it to his mind. Mallinson was jeering at the journalist's metaphor of the 'throbbing heart' as applied to London.
Fielding thought more than once of calling at his flat, since his determination had been sharpened rather than overcome by the victories of Mrs. Willoughby. He was more than ever convinced that Mallinson ought to have a fair chance with Miss Le Mesurier an equal chance with Drake. The name of Drake made him pause.
But an hour later Sidney Mallinson found her seated by the open window. She had not even taken off her hat or gloves. Once or twice he seemed on the point of speaking, but she faced him steadily and her manner even invited his questions. Mallinson turned away with the questions unasked. But he lay long awake that night, thinking; and his resentment against Drake gained new fuel from his thoughts.
She had no doubts as to the origin of his illness, and overflowed promptly with sympathy. Her resentment against Mrs. Willoughby none the less remained. Driving homewards she asked her, 'Why didn't you tell me before that Mr. Mallinson was ill? 'My dear, I never gave a thought to it until I saw Mr. Fielding. The illness isn't serious, and Mrs.
'Constance, Fielding repeated, weighing it deliberately. 'Constance no, I rather like it. 'Clarice shortens it to Connie. 'Does she indeed? Connie Constance. Fielding contrasted the two names, and again, 'Constance Connie. Mrs. Willoughby's mouth began to dimple at the corners. 'Although one laughs, she proceeded, 'it's really rather serious about Mr. Mallinson.
The taste's barbarian, I don't doubt. Miss Le Mesurier's lips instinctively pouted a mischievous 'bourgeois' towards Mallinson. He remarked hastily that he thought the curtain was on the point of rising, and Miss Le Mesurier pushed her opera-glasses towards him with a serene 'Not yet, I think. Mallinson understood the suggestion of her movement and relapsed into a sullen silence.
Long sojourning in the wilderness, moreover, had given Drake an exaggerated reverence for the printed page. He was inclined to set Mallinson on a pinnacle, and scourge himself at the foot of it for his earlier distrust of him.
It's like opening a book written in a language you don't understand. You get a glimpse of a meaning here and there, but no meaning really. I can't explain what I feel, he added, with a laugh. 'I want Mallinson to help me. 'You admire Mr. Mallinson? asked Clarice, stopping suddenly. 'Well, one always admires the class of work one can't do oneself, eh? 'That's very generous of you.
Details were immediately demanded, the plot of the new novel discussed and praised; there was flattery too in the diffident criticism of an incident here and there, and the sweetest foretaste of happiness in the joint rearrangement of the disputed chapter. Mallinson was lifted on a billow of confidence. He was of the type which adjusts itself to the opinions his company may have of him.
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