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Updated: June 10, 2025
Their femininity topples me over, and there's no work to be got out of me while I'm like that. But my work's of more consequence to me than loving and kissing, Quinny, and if I can't do it while I'm Cecily's lover, then I'll go away from her and do it!" "What makes you think you could do it if she were to go away with you?" "I don't know. Hope, I suppose."
"I shall take up your contention," said Quinny without pause for breath, "first, because you have opened up one of my pet topics, and, second, because it gives me a chance to talk." He gave a sidelong glance at Steingall and winked at De Gollyer. "What is the peculiar fascination that the detective problem exercises over the human mind? You will say curiosity. Yes and no.
You quite obviously love her, and she quite obviously loves you.... Oh, Lordy God, I wish I could love somebody. I wish I were a young man in a novelette, with a nice, clear-cut face and crisp, curly hair and frightfully gentlemanly ways and no brains so that I could get into the most idiotic messes.... Why aren't there any aphrodisiacs for men who cannot love any one in particular, Quinny!
Well, Quinny," he continued, turning to Henry, "what about you?" "I used to think I'd like to be a clergyman," Henry answered. "Oh, did you?..." "And then," he went on rapidly, "I thought I'd like to be an actor!..." They rose at him simultaneously. "A what?" they shouted. "An actor," he repeated. They gaped at him for a few moments without speaking. Then Ninian expressed their views.
"Still smashing idols?" he said, slapping the shoulder of Steingall, with whom and Quinny he had passed his student days, "Well, what's the row?" "My dear Britt, we are reforming matrimony. Steingall is for the importation of Mongolian wives," said De Gollyer, who had written two favorable articles on Herkimer, "while Quinny is for founding a school for wives on most novel and interesting lines."
"I suppose," he added, getting up from the table, "Tom Arthurs is half way across now. I wish I could have gone with him. What a holiday!" "Talking of holidays," Gilbert said, "I'm going to take one, and as you don't seem in a fit state to do any work, Quinny, you'd better take one too, and come with me!" "Where are you going?" Roger asked. "Anglesey?" "No.
Look out, Quinny, here's a motor, and that's Holy Mountain on the right. We'll go up it to-morrow, if you like. It's not much of a climb. Just enough to jig you up a bit. There's a chap in the hotel who scoots up mountains like a young goat. He asked me to go up Snowdon with him, but when I asked him what the tramfare was, he was slightly snorty in his manner. How's the novel getting on?"
They had drifted along Regent Street, and then had drifted into Oxford Street, and were going slowly in the direction of Marble Arch. "Quinny!" said Gilbert after a while. "Yes?" Henry answered. "Have you ... have you seen Cecily since you came back?" "Yes. Twice!" Gilbert did not ask the question which was on the tip of his tongue, but Henry was willing to give the answer without being asked.
"I'll box your ears for you, Ninian Graham!" said Mary, "and I won't let Quinny fight you, and Quinny, if you dare to fight him, I shan't like you any more...." "Then I won't fight him, Mary. She's saved your life, Ninian," he said, turning to his friend. "Yahhh!" Ninian shouted.
Ninian and Gilbert and Roger had written to him, short, abrupt letters that he knew were full of kindly concern for him, and Rachel had written too. There was a letter from Mary. Dear Quinny, you don't know how sorry I am. It must be awful to lose your father when you and he have been such chums.
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