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Updated: May 29, 2025
When at length his curate hinted to him what was being said, he had so clearly formulated his own theory of Mrs. Quarrier's death that only the strongest evidence would have led him to reconsider it. Obstinacy and intellectual conceit forbade him to indulge his disposition to paint an enemy's character in the darkest colours. "No, Mr.
Serena began by asking, with a roguish look. "Pooh! What is such stuff to me?" "I knew I should tease you. What do you think of Mr. Quarrier's chances?" "Oh, he will be elected, no doubt." Glazzard spoke absently, his eyes on Serena's face, but seemingly not conscious of her expression. "I hope he will," she rejoined. "What! you hope so?" "Yes, I do. I am convinced he is the right man.
Did Agatha Caithness realise how pinched her mouth and nose had grown? Did even Leroy Mortimer dream how swollen the pouches under his eyes were; how red and puffy his hands, shuffling a new pack; how pendulous and dreadful his red under-lip when absorbedly making up his cards? Instinctively she moved a step forward for a glimpse of Quarrier's face. The face appeared to be a study in blankness.
To-night she ate and drank with a bitter sense of her poverty and loneliness. Before her mind's eye was the picture of Denzil Quarrier's study its luxury, brightness, wealth of volumes; and Denzil's face made an inseparable part of the scene. That face had never ceased to occupy her imagination since the evening of his lecture at the Institute.
It was very late when Siward first began to be aware of his increasing deafness, the difficulty, too, that he had in making people hear, the annoying contempt in Quarrier's woman-like eyes. He felt that he was making a fool of himself, very noiselessly somehow but with more racket than he expected when he miscalculated the distance between his hand and a decanter.
"I am inclined to think he is a bit uneasy," said Plank cautiously. "Harrington made a secret trip to Albany last week. You didn't know that." "No." "Well, he did. It looks to me as though there were going to be a ghost of a chance for an investigation. That is how I am inclined to consider Harrington's trip and Quarrier's flag of truce. But I don't know. There's nothing definite, of course.
"A suit before a referee would settle him," mused Voucher; "he hasn't a leg to stand on. Lord! The same cat that tripped up Stephen Siward!" Fleetwood's quick eyes glimmered for an instant in Quarrier's direction. Quarrier was in the billiard-room, out of earshot, practising balk-line problems with Major Belwether; and Fleetwood said: "The same cat that tripped up Stephen Siward. Yes.
There were solid reasons of more than one kind why the marriage should not be long delayed. It would be best if he returned to London and communicated with her by letter. He could write eloquently, and to let her think of him as in the midst of gay society might not be amiss. Shortly after Quarrier's arrival at Polterham, he was back again.
In Quarrier's opinion, she would far outshine her previous appearances; she was to wear certain jewels which he had purchased on a recent visit to town at an outlay of which he preferred to say nothing definite. "They are the kind of thing," he remarked, with a significant smile, "that can be passed on to one's children." But would it be possible for her to keep the engagement?
Liversedge was obviously Denzil Quarrier's sister; she had his eyes and his nose not uncomely features. Her age was about eight-and-thirty, that of her husband forty-five. This couple if any in England probably knew the meaning of happiness. Neither had experienced narrow circumstances, and the future could but confirm their security from sordid cares.
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