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Updated: June 6, 2025


Mr. Maryon was standing at the fireplace. Agnes was crouching on the ground at his feet. I saw at once that it was no use for me to dissemble the reason of my visit, and, without a word of greeting, I said: “Miss Maryon, I have come, in obedience to your summons. If I can prevent any misfortune from falling upon you I am ready to help you, with my life. You have guessed that I love you.

And as far as the neighbourhood and Roger Trenby were concerned, she might just as well run away with Maryon Rooke as return with Sandy McBain at that ungodly hour! She would be equally compromised. Besides, Kitty would have informed her household that she was not expecting Miss Davenant back that night.

The site for its library was acquired from Sir Maryon Wilson, and the stone was laid by Sir Henry Harben, who had given £5,000 for the erection of the building. Five branch libraries are established in connection, and the main one is chiefly for reference. This was opened in 1897.

Compel John Maryon to pay the debt of honor!” Nothing but the remembrance of Agnes’ sweet face availed for the time to banish the vision, the statement, and the bidding. Miss Maryon was soon down-stairs again. Did I flatter myself too much in thinking that she was as glad to see me as I was to see her? No—I felt sure that I did not. Then I began to reflect seriously upon my position.

"You were pledged to Trenby," he said slowly. "That was different. I couldn't ask you to break your pledge to him, even had I been free to do so. You were his, not mine. . . . But you had given no promise to Maryon Rooke." The incalculable reproach and accusation of those last words seemed to burn their way right into her heart. In a flash of revelation the whole thing became clear to her.

The thick Eastern carpet, the dim, blue-grey hangings on the walls, the quaint brazen lamps hushing the modern note of electric light behind their thick glass panes spoke eloquently of Maryon. A faint fragrance of cedar tinged the atmosphere.

Maryon had gone completely out of her life; Peter, the man she loved, could never come into it; and the only man who strove for entrance was, as Penelope had said, the last man in the world to make her happy.

I didn't greatly take to the chief-officer of that party, with his bright eyes, brown face, and easy figure. I didn't much like his way when he first happened to come where we were, with Miss Maryon on his arm. "O, Captain Carton," she says, "here are two friends of mine!" He says, "Indeed? These two Marines?" meaning Charker and self.

It was rather original of Maryon to have done that, she thought painted both body and spirit and it was just like that cynical cleverness of his to have discerned so exactly the soulless type of woman which the beautiful body concealed and to have insolently reproduced it, daring discovery. She looked up and found him standing beside her.

Ralph Fenton had only a vague knowledge of the affair, but he dimly recollected that there had been something a passing flirtation, he fancied between Maryon and Nan in bygone days, and he proceeded to chaff her gently on the subject as they drove to the studio. "Poor old Rooke will get a shock, Nan, when we dump you on to him this afternoon," he said.

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