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Updated: June 29, 2025
"By-the-bye," he resumed, "Narramore astounded me by hinting at marriage. It's Miss Birching, the sister of my man. It hasn't come to an engagement yet, and if it ever does I shall give Miss Birching the credit for it. It would have amused you to hear him talking about her, with a pipe in his mouth and half asleep. I understand now why he took young Birching with him to Switzerland.
"The blind woman was at the door below," he explained, "looking for somebody." "It isn't as absurd as it sounds. She does look for people with her ears. She knows a footstep that no one else can hear. What were you doing at Dudley yesterday?" Narramore took his pipe out of its case and smiled over it. "Colours well, doesn't it?" he remarked. "You don't care about the colouring of a pipe?
He arrived at the hotel, and found Narramore in company with a man of about the same age, his name Birching, to Hilliard a stranger. They had reached Paris this morning, and would remain only for a day or two, as their purpose was towards the Alps.
"It's true I have been drunk now and then of late. There's much to be said for getting drunk." "Much," assented Narramore, philosophically. Hilliard went on with his supper; his friend puffed tobacco, and idly regarded the cheque he was still holding. "And what are you going to do?" he asked at length. There came no reply, and several minutes passed in silence.
Then he returned to Eve's letter. It gave him a detailed account of her relations with Narramore. "I went to him because I couldn't bear to live idle any longer; I had no other thought in my mind. If he had been the means of my finding work, I should have confessed it to you at once.
Hilliard gave a glance in that direction before replying. "Don't count upon me. Patty and you will enjoy the day together, in any case. Yes, I had rather have it so. Narramore said just now he might look in to see me in the after' noon. But come over on Monday. When does Patty's train go from New Street?" Eve was mute, gazing at the speaker as if she did not catch what he had said.
A fortnight elapsed; he strengthened himself in stubbornness, aided by the catarrh, which many bottles of whisky would not overcome. When his solitary confinement grew at length insufferable, he sent for Narramore, and had not long to wait before his friend appeared. Narramore was rosy as ever: satisfaction with life beamed from his countenance.
In the hall he was confronted by Narramore, who shook hands with him rather effusively, and said a few words in an undertone. "She's out in the garden. Will be delighted to see you. Awfully good of you, old boy! Had to come sooner or later, you know."
And the very risk she had run, was not that too a matter of deliberate speculation? She might succeed in her design upon Narramore; if she failed, the 'poorer man was still to be counted upon, for she knew the extent of her power over him. It was worth the endeavour. Perhaps, in her insolent self-confidence, she did not fear the effect on Narramore of the disclosure that might be made to him.
At each reperusal of her letter he felt more resolved to disappoint the hope that inspired it. When she learnt from Patty that Narramore was still ignorant of her history how would she exult! But that joy should be brief. In the name of common honesty he would protect his friend. If Narramore chose to take her with his eyes open Jealous frenzy kept him pacing the room for an hour or two.
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