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Updated: May 3, 2025
"'Ware barbed wire, if you want the brush." "I myself never was crazy for the brush," murmured Sylvia. Grace whispered maliciously: "But you've got it, with the mask and pads," and her mischievous head barely tipped backward in the direction of Quarrier. "Especially the mask," returned Sylvia, under her breath, and laid on the table the last card of a Yarborough. Plank scored without comment.
He boarded the Pullman coupled to it forward, pushed through the vestibule, shoved aside the Japanese steward and darky cook, forcing his way straight into the private car. Quarrier, reading a magazine, looked up at him in astonishment. For a full moment neither spoke. Then Mortimer dropped his suit-case, sat down in an armchair opposite Quarrier, and leisurely mopped his reeking face and neck.
So Quarrier talked, sparingly, about his new coach, about Billy Fleetwood's renowned string of hunters, about Ashley Spencer's new stable and his chances at Saratoga with Roy-a-neh, for which he had paid a fabulous sum the sum and the story probably equally fabulous.
As with Denzil Quarrier and The Town Traveller this was one of the books which Gissing sometimes went the length of asking the admirers of his earlier romances 'not to read. With its prefatory note, indeed, its cheap illustrations, and its rather mechanical intrigue, it seems as far removed from such a book as A Life's Morning as it is possible for a novel by the same author to be.
Quarrier was an English governess there." "Ah! a governess!" cried two or three voices. "To tell the truth," said Mrs. Mumbray, more dignified than ever after her vindication, "it is probable that she belongs to some very poor family. I should be sorry to think any worse of her for that, but it would explain the private marriage."
Wade's hysterical display is but another illustration of the same thing. These women have no support outside themselves they have deliberately cast away everything of the kind." "Let me exhibit my meaning from another point of view. Consider, Mr. Blenkinsop" Quarrier, in the meantime, was very far from suspecting the accusation which hostile ingenuity had brought against him.
"I must report to the C.O. Briefly, we've missed von Gobendorff, but we've had one of the toughest little scraps I've ever experienced." Colonel Quarrier was both delighted and disappointed with his junior officer's report. His satisfaction at the news of the successful defence of the kraal was unbounded; but his brow darkened when he learnt of the escape of Ulrich von Gobendorff.
A word to Quarrier, and crack! the match was off! Girl mad as a hornet, but staggered, has no explanation to offer; man frozen stiff with rage, mute as an iceberg. Then, zip! Enter Beverly Plank the girl's rescuer at a pinch her preserver, the saviour of her "face," the big, highly coloured, leaden-eyed deus ex machina. Would she take fifty cents on the dollar?
But the lady was not at home. After a moment of indecision, she wrote on the back of her visiting card: "Will you be so kind as to let me know when I could see you? I will come at any hour." It was then midday. In the afternoon she received a note, hand-delivered. Mrs. Quarrier would be at home from ten to twelve the next morning.
His brother would be far more likely, wouldn't he, Denzil?" "What, Eustace Glazzard?" replied Quarrier. "He regards Parliament and everything connected with it with supreme contempt. Suggest the thing when he comes this evening, and watch his face." "What is he doing?" Mr. Liversedge asked. "Collecting pictures, playing the fiddle, gazing at sunflowers, and so on. He'll never do anything else."
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