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Updated: June 29, 2025
I shall be away for a week or two, and will let you hear from me in the meantime. Narramore says I am looking vastly better, and it is you I have to thank for this. Without you, my attempts at 'enjoying life' would have been a poor business. We start in an hour or two, Yours ever, He was absent for full three weeks, and arrived with his friends at the Gare de Lyon early one morning of September.
"You look pretty fit a jolly sight better than when we met last. All the same, you will go on with us. We won't argue it now; it's dinner-time. Wait till afterwards." At table, Narramore mentioned that his friend Birching was an architect. "Just what this fellow ought to have been," he said, indicating Hilliard. "Architecture is his hobby.
There would have been something to admire in that. The worst of it is she is making me feel ashamed of her. I'd rather have to do with a woman who didn't care a rap for my feelings than with a weak one, who tried to spare me to advantage herself at the same time. There's nothing like courage, whether in good or evil. What do you think? Does she like Narramore?"
"This is dreadful extravagance!" she exclaimed, pausing at the threshold, and eying her welcomer with mock reproof. "It is, but not on my part. The things came a day or two ago, simply addressed to me from shops." "Who was the giver, then?" "Must be Narramore, of course. He was here not long ago, and growled a good deal because I hadn't a decent chair for his lazy bones."
At length he put the letter down again, softly. "There's something more here than I expected. Can you tell me whether she heard from Narramore this morning?" "She has had no letter." "I see. And what does she suppose passed between Narramore and me yesterday?" "She is wondering what you told him." "She takes it for granted, in this letter, that I have put an end to everything between them.
"She has told me everything," the girl continued, speaking hurriedly. "Did you know about it before yesterday?" "I'm not so good an actor as all that. Eve has the advantage of me in that respect. She really thought it possible that Narramore had spoken before?" "She couldn't be sure." "H'm! Then she didn't know for certain that Narramore was going to talk to me about her yesterday?"
"I want to see a mountain with snow on it. We're bound to travel by night, and another day of this would settle me. Any objection, Birching?" The architect agreed, and time-tables were consulted. Hilliard drove home to pack. When this was finished, he sat down and wrote a letter: "DEAR MISS MADELEY, My friend Narramore is here, and has persuaded me to go to Switzerland with him.
Hilliard obeyed, and for a few moments they puffed in silence, twilight thickening about them. "Three or four months ago," resumed Narramore, "I was told one day at business that a lady wished to see me. I happened to have the room to myself, and told them to show the lady in.
I am at your mercy, and you may punish me as you like." "There's only one way in which I can punish you. For the loss of my respect, or of my love, you care nothing. If I bring myself to tell Narramore disagreeable things about you, you will suffer a disappointment, and that's all. The cost to me will be much greater, and you know it. You pity yourself.
With Narramore he had of late resumed the friendship interrupted by Miss Birching's displeasure, for that somewhat imperious young lady, now the wife of an elderly ironmaster, moved in other circles; and Hilliard's professional value, which was beginning to be recognised by the Birchings otherwise than in the way of compliment, had overcome the restraints at first imposed by his dubious social standing.
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