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Updated: June 23, 2025
But none of these things militated against him in Oscard's mind. They only made him fitter for the work he had undertaken. "How long will it take?" asked Guy. Durnovo tugged at his strange, curtain-like moustache. His mouth was hidden; it was quite impossible to divine his thoughts. "Three months to get there," he answered at length.
Joseph knew a little of their language, and one of the head fighting men knew a little more, and spoke a dialect known to Oscard. They were slaves they said at once, but only on Oscard's promise that Durnovo should not be allowed to shoot them.
There was the suggestion of a smile beneath Sir John's grim eyebrows. "No," returned Oscard rather lamely, "it is a sort of thing that happens every day out there." Sir John turned suddenly, and with the courtliness that was ever his he indulged in a rare exhibition of feeling. He laid his hand on Guy Oscard's stalwart knee.
"Because I know you both," she answered. "For him 'better not' stands for 'must. With you 'better not' means 'doesn't matter." "'Better not' is so weak that if one pits duty against it it collapses. I cannot leave Oscard in the lurch, especially after his prompt action in coming to my relief." "Yes," she replied guardedly. "I like Mr. Oscard's way of doing things."
"It's a sin to let that man live," exclaimed Joseph, turning away in horror. "It's a sin to let ANY man die," replied Oscard, and with his great strength he shook Durnovo like a garment. And so Victor Durnovo died. His stained soul left his body in Guy Oscard's hands, and the big Englishman shook the corpse, trying to awake it from that sleep which knows no earthly waking.
Had she wronged any man in the world but Guy Oscard, that little movement full of love and tenderness and sweet contrition might have saved her. But it was Oscard's heart that she had broken; for broken they both knew it to be, and Jack Meredith stepped back from her touch as from pollution. His superficial, imagined love for her had been killed at a single blow.
"Hang it!" exclaimed Jack Meredith, suddenly throwing himself back in his chair, "it is a good joke." He laughed softly, and all the while his eyes, watchful, wise, anxious, were studying Guy Oscard's face. "He is harder hit than I am," he was reflecting. "Poor old Oscard!"
Oscard's departure." "Ah! Mr. Oscard proposes depriving us of his society." "He leaves to-morrow. He only came to say good-bye." "He moves on to some other hostelry?" "No! He is going to " She paused, so that Sir John was forced to turn in courteous inquiry and look her in the face. "Africa!" she added sharply, never taking her bright eyes from his face.
"I am sorry that our young friend is going to leave us," said Sir John, taking up and unfolding the morning paper. "He is honest and candid, if he is nothing else." This meant that Guy Oscard's admiration for Millicent Chyne had never been concealed for a moment, and Lady Cantourne knew it.
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