Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
Foley and Lord Armley were waiting together in the library not the smaller apartment into which Julia had been shown, but a more spacious, almost a stately room in the front part of the house. Upon Maraton's entrance, Lord Armley changed his position, sitting further back amongst the shadows in a low easy-chair. Maraton took his place so that he was between the two men.
At the sound of Maraton's name, however, he turned swiftly around. His face seemed to lighten. He held out his hand with an air almost of relief. "So you have come!" he exclaimed. "I am glad." Maraton shook hands and would have passed on, but Mr. Foley detained him. "Armley and I were talking about this after noon's decision," he continued. "There will be no secret about it to-morrow.
"There's plenty that calls him so in other parts of the country," he assented. "I belong to a Working Man's Club and what we can't see is what's the bally use of a job like this? He's bitten off more than he can chew that's what Maraton's done. He's stopped the railways and the coal, and even you can tell what that means, I suppose, sir?
"So it ought to have been," Aaron declared vigorously. "What could they do but vote for you, with Manchester staring them in the face?" Maraton's expression lightened, a gleam of humour twinkled in his eyes. "After all," he murmured, "it would have been almost Gilbertian if I had been returned to Parliament with the Labour vote against me! . . . Aaron, go and ring up Peter Dale.
Fancy to live in my fairy chamber, to listen while I give shape and substance to all that I conceive what woman would refuse!" Maraton laughed softly as they passed out into the Palace yard. "Try Julia," he suggested. Selingman had the air of one who has achieved a personal triumph as, with his arm in Maraton's, he led him towards the man whom they had come to visit. "Behold!" he exclaimed.
The Prime Minister nodded, but his slightly relaxed expression seemed to show that he appreciated Maraton's intention. Selingman looked after him gloomily as he left the room. "What devilish impulse," he muttered, "leads these men to pass into your rotten English politics! It is like a poet trying to navigate a dredger. Bah!" "Need you go into that gloomy chamber again, my friend?"
Only, the night you and I went north together, the gates of that world which you speak of so easily were closed behind me." "It was the other woman," Selingman exclaimed. "It was the other woman," Maraton echoed. Selingman set down the bottle upon the table. Two great tears rolled down from his blue eyes. He held out both his hands and gripped Maraton's.
"Let them come in," he directed. The three men Peter Dale, Abraham Weavel and Graveling filed into the room a little solemnly. Maraton shook hands with the two former, but Graveling, who kept his head turned away from Julia, affected not to notice Maraton's friendly overtures. "So you managed it all right," Peter Dale remarked. "Pretty close fit, wasn't it?" "Seven hundred," Maraton replied.
Julia, sitting by Maraton's side, felt herself impelled to hold on to his arm. Her body, her every sense was thrilled with the hoarse, dramatic roll of their voices, the forest of upraised caps, the strange calm of the man, who glanced sometimes almost sadly from side to side. She clutched at him once passionately. "Isn't it wonderful!" she murmured.
Once or twice she looked around her one might almost have imagined that she was seeking escape from her companion and on one of these occasions her eyes met Maraton's. She stopped short. They were within a few feet of one another, and Maraton rose to his feet. She lowered her parasol and held out her hand. "Only a very short time ago," she told him, "I was wondering what you were doing.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking