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Updated: June 22, 2025
"You've dived down to something in that picture; perhaps she has." "Yes, she has." Morewood looked straight at the Dean as he added, "But I can leave out the other things, you see. That's the difference." "And she can't? No. That is the difference. She'll have to live with the other things." He looked courageously at Morewood and ended, "We must trust in God."
"From all this riot of your fancy," said Morewood grimly, "one only thing emerges quite plainly." "Does even one thing?" "Yes. That you think about Quisanté a mighty lot." "Oh, yes. Of course I do, a mighty lot," she admitted, laughing. "But you aren't very much more useful than Mrs. Baxter, who told me that my innocent heedlessness might give Mr. Quisanté pain.
"I suppose she sees what the man is by now," said Lady Richard to Morewood, whom she had been trying to entice into sympathising with her over the scandalous treatment of the Crusade. "My dear Lady Richard, she always saw what he is much better than you do, even better than I do.
He rose, shook himself, and cried to the brothers, "Oh, in heaven's name, come and play pool." Jimmy refused and paired off with his fiancée, but Dick agreed to billiards, saying as they went in, "It'll keep you from making a fool of yourself any more." Morewood, finding his own impression of his conduct thus confirmed, grunted remorsefully as he took down his cue.
"Where's the harm?" asked Morewood, in a rough effort at comfort. "The harm? But you don't understand. It is the face of a beast!" "My dear fellow, that's stuff! It's only the face of a lover." Stafford looked at him in a dazed way. "I wish you'd let me go back to my room, Morewood, and give me that picture. No I won't hurt it." "Take it, then, and pull yourself together.
The frame of the phrase seemed familiar to him as he uttered it, and he had just succeeded in tracing it back to the putative parentage of Lord Verulam, when, to his great astonishment, he heard Stafford's voice from the top of the bank, saying: "As I am in your mind already, Mr. Morewood, I feel my bodily appearance less of an intrusion on your solitude."
You'll say he's objectionable. Quite so. Greatness always is. You're still pleasant, because you haven't become great." "A few people think you a great artist." "Quite a few," grinned Morewood. "I can still set up for being pleasant." This mood did not leave him with his arrival at Ashwood.
"I wonder if you'll stick to your last," said Morewood. Claudia decided that she had better not see this joke, if the contemptible quip could be so called. It was very impertinent, and she had no retort ready. She revenged herself by declaring her sitting at an end, and inviting herself and her aunt to stay to tea. "I've got no end of work to do," Morewood protested.
In fact, certain stories have reached Lady Jane's ears concerning your cousin, which have greatly prejudiced her against him, and we have reason to think most unfairly; for we have succeeded in tracing some of the offences in question, not to Guy, but to a Mr. Morewood, who it seems has personated your cousin upon more than one occasion, and not a little to his disadvantage.
"At least I don't know anybody who can settle the quarrel between facts and dreams." "There isn't any quarrel." "There's a little stiffness anyhow," urged Morewood, still unwontedly docile. "They'd get on better if they saw more of one another," suggested May timidly. It was her first intervention. She felt its insignificance.
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