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Let him do what he likes let him go into the market-place and shout his news! We'll go back at once." "You are prepared, then, to have this known all over Polterham?" Mrs. Wade asked, looking steadily at him. "I don't care a jot! Let the election go to the devil! Do you think I will submit Lily to a day of such torture? This very evening we go to London. How does she bear it?" "Very well indeed."
Every copy that reached the Polterham vendors was snapped up within a few minutes of its arrival. People who had no right of membership ran ravening to the Literary Institute and the Constitutional Literary Society, and peered over the shoulders of legitimate readers, on such a day as this unrebuked. Mr. Chown's drapery establishment presented a strange spectacle.
He was not the most influential of the Polterham clerics, for women in general rather feared than liked him; a sincere ascetic, he moved but awkwardly in the regions of tea and tattle, and had an uncivil habit of speaking what he thought the truth without regard to time, place, or person.
If I am to be at your mercy henceforth, I had rather bid you do what you like; it really doesn't matter much to me. I will give you five hundred pounds at once a cheque on a Polterham banker; moreover, if my secret is kept, I will do you the other service I offered. But that's all I have to say. If it doesn't suit you, you must do what you please." His boldness was successful.
The Examiner could not report him for lack of space; the Mercury complained of a headache caused by this "blatant youthfulness striving to emulate garrulous senility" a phrase which moved Denzil to outrageous laughter. And on the whole he kept well within such limits of opinion as Polterham approved. Now and then Mr.
He thought better of her intelligence than before hearing her speak, and it was not difficult for him to imagine that the rumour of Polterham went much astray when it concerned itself with her characteristics; but the face now directed to him had no power whatever over his sensibilities. It might be that of a high-spirited and large-brained woman; beautiful it could not be called.
In those days a traveller descending the slope of the Banwell Hills sought out the slim spire of Polterham parish church amid a tract of woodland, mead and tillage; now the site of the thriving little borough was but too distinctly marked by trails of smoke from several gaunt chimneys that of Messrs. With the character of Polterham itself, the Literary Institute had suffered a noteworthy change.
Quarrier was in the habit of seeing him perhaps once a month, and it was long since he had heard the connoisseur discourse so freely, so unconcernedly. As soon as they were seated at table, Denzil began to talk of politics. "If my brother-in-law really stands for Polterham," he exclaimed, "we must set you canvassing among the mill-hands, Glazzard!" "H'm! not impossible."
On the next day, when he was newly arrayed from head to foot, and jingled loose sovereigns in his pocket, this tumult of feelings possessed him even more strongly. Added to his other provocations was the uncertainty whether Marks had yet taken action. Save by returning to Polterham, he knew not how to learn what was happening there.
"Well?" he asked, more gently. "Quarrier tells me you are going down to Polterham. Any special reason?" "Yes. But I can't talk about it." "I was down there myself last Sunday. I talked politics with the local wiseacres, and do you know, it has made me think of you ever since?" "How so?" Mr. Stark consulted his watch. "I'm at leisure for just nineteen minutes.
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