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Updated: June 10, 2025
"That's the fashionable theatre, isn't it?" Henry's knowledge of London was still very limited, and he seldom visited the theatre, chiefly because Gilbert, who had to visit them all, spoke of the English drama with contempt. "Yes," Gilbert replied. "All the Jews and dukes go there. Suppose we go for a row on the Serpentine, Quinny? You can pull the oars for an hour.
Damn it all, a baby is a remarkable thing, when you come to think of it. All that wriggle and bubble and squeak and kick ... and Lord only knows what'll come out of it! We ought to get married, Quinny, and father a few brats.
"I've wondered sometimes," she said, "about your not joining ... it seemed odd ... but I thought that perhaps there was something that would explain it. I'd like you to join, Quinny ... I can't pretend that I wouldn't ... but I don't feel that I ought to ask you to do so.
He wanted to suggest that he should go with her instead of Ninian, but before he could speak he saw Cecily moving down the room towards the street. "Good-night, Mary!" was all he said. Roger had taken Rachel home, and so, when Ninian had gone off with his mother and Mary, there were only Henry and Gilbert left. "Let's go home, Quinny," Gilbert said. "I'd like to walk if you don't mind!"
"I'm in love with her, Gilbert!" "Yes." "I ... I asked her to run away with me!..." Gilbert laughed. "You have hustled, Quinny," he said. "And she wouldn't, eh?" "No!" Gilbert's laughter stimulated him, and he spoke more fluently. "But she's in love with me. She told me so. I've just come from her. And she wants me to stay in town." "To be near her?" "Yes. Yes, I suppose so. I had to tell you.
Of course, if you must go to Ireland, you must, but it seems a little needless, doesn't it?" "This business will take time," Gilbert replied. "Tons of time. I don't think our visit to Ireland will affect it much. You'll come with me, won't you, Quinny?" Henry nodded his head. "At once, if you like," he answered, hoping indeed that Gilbert would suggest an immediate departure.
I tell you, Quinny, love's a private, furtive thing, a secret adventure, and open exposure of it is a sort of profanity...." "No," said Henry emphatically. "Love's made nasty by secrecy!" He began to spread himself. "It seems to me," he said, "that the marriage rite is broken, incomplete. In a healthy state, the whole function would be performed in public ... in ... in a cathedral, say.
"Remember Rantoul?" said Herkimer, rolling a cigarette and using a jerky diction. "Clyde Rantoul?" said Stibo. "Don Furioso Barebones Rantoul, who was in the Quarter with us?" said Quinny. "Don Furioso, yes," said Rankin. "Ever see him?" "Never." "He's married," said Quinny; "dropped out." "Yes, he married," said Herkimer, lighting his cigarette. "Well, I've just seen him."
I thought of going there, but I've changed my mind. I shall go to Ireland with Quinny." "Ireland!" Henry exclaimed, looking across at Gilbert. "Yes. Dublin. We can go to-night. I've never been there, and I'd like to know what these chaps, Marsh and Galway, are up to.
Roger Carey and Gilbert Farlow met him at Euston. "Hilloa, Quinny!" Gilbert said, "I've been made a dramatic critic, and I'm to do my first play to-night!" "Hurray!" he answered, and turned to greet Roger. "We've bagged a taxi," Gilbert went on. "The driver looks cheeky ... that's why we hired him. We'll give him a tuppenny tip and then we'll give him in charge!..."
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