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He never really flattered himself that it might fail. It seemed to him that there was no other course in this world for himself, for all mankind, but resignation. And he could not help thinking that Professor Moorsom had arrived at the same conclusion too.
Its marble hair was done in the bold lines of a helmet, on its lips the chisel had left a faint smile, and it resembled Miss Moorsom.
This was only a manifestation of his extremely refined cleverness. The complicated simpleton. He had an awful awakening though." In such words did Professor Moorsom give his "young friend" to understand the state of his feelings toward the lost man. It was evident that the father of Miss Moorsom wished him to remain lost.
Next to him Miss Moorsom assented by a long silence. Then in a voice as of one coming out of a dream "And so this is Malata," she said. "I have often wondered . . ." A shiver passed through Renouard. She had wondered! What about? Malata was himself. He and Malata were one. And she had wondered! She had . . . The professor's sister leaned over towards Renouard.
"Humbug!" thought Renouard, standing still and looking after him. "And yet! And yet! What if it were true?" He advanced then towards Miss Moorsom. Posed on the seat on which they had first spoken to each other, it was her turn to watch him coming on. But many of the windows were not lighted that evening. It was dark over there.
"Are you growing weary, Miss Moorsom?" A silence fell on his low spoken question. "Do you mean heart-weary?" sounded Miss Moorsom's voice. "You don't know me, I see." "Ah! Never despair," he muttered. "This, Mr. Renouard, is a work of reparation. I stand for truth here. I can't think of myself."
The port column was led by the Whirlwind, followed by Myngs and Moorsom, which ships were to patrol to the northward of Zeebrugge; and the Tetrarch, also to escort the Ostend block ships. Every craft was towing one or more coastal motor boats, and between the columns were motor launches.
Well! this is nice work, Phoebe, and I'm sure I'm very much beholden to yo'. And here's five sticks o' barley-sugar, one for every stitch, and thank you kindly, Mrs. Moorsom, too. Philip took the handkerchief and hoped he had made honourable amends for his want of recognition.
I have no doubt I shall have many of these trips from being in the admiral's and captain's notice. This letter I send by Moorsom, whom you may recollect when I was at college. Now I shall conclude with love and best wishes to all. H.M.S. 'LEANDER, HALIFAX: Novr. 12, 1817.
"You are pleased to tease me," he said, directly he had recovered his voice and had mastered his anger. It was as if Professor Moorsom had dropped poison in his ear which was spreading now and tainting his passion, his very jealousy. He mistrusted every word that came from those lips on which his life hung.
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