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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Please get me some tea, and send a message round to St. Cyprian's to Mr. Sorell that I want to see him as soon as he can come." The door closed on the scout. Left alone Radowitz plunged into a tumult of feverish thought. He seemed to be standing again, just freshly dressed, beside his bed to hear the noise on the stairs, the rush into his sitting-room.
There had been certain symptoms apparent during Otto's last weeks at Penfold known only to the old vicar, to himself and Sorell. The doctors were not convinced yet of the presence of phthisis; but from various signs, Falloden was inclined to think that the boy believed himself sentenced to the same death which had carried off his mother.
After all, when you run over a dog, you send a message, don't you?" said the lad with sudden bitterness. "And I believe he wrote a letter after I came here. But I didn't open it. I gave it to Sorell." Then he raised himself on his pillows and looked keenly at Connie. "You see the others didn't mean any harm. They were drunk, and it was a row. But Falloden wasn't drunk and he did mean "
Why aren't we in Paris or Warsaw where I could call him out?" He tossed about in pain and fever, irritably deciding that his bandage hurt him, and he must recall the doctor, when he heard Sorell's voice at the door. It quieted him at once. "Come in!" Sorell came in with a scared face. "My dear boy what's the matter?" "Oh, there was a bit of a row last night.
Then they told me about the inquest I shall have to go to-morrow and on the way home I went to see Lady Connie. I thought she ought to know." Sorell started. "And you found her?" "Oh, yes. She was sitting in the garden." There was a short silence. Then Otto flung up his left hand, caught a gnat that was buzzing round his head, and laughed a dreary little sound.
Sunday was to see her introduction to the Master's inner circle, which met in summer, not between books and a blazing fire, but in the small college garden hidden amid the walls of Beaumont. Sorell was to bring her. The Master did not even go through the form of inviting either Mrs. Hooper or Miss Hooper. In all such matters he was a chartered libertine and did what he pleased.
The garden door had no sooner closed on Falloden than Radowitz threw himself back, and went into a fit of laughter, curious, hollow laughter. Sorell looked at him anxiously. "What's the meaning of that, Otto?" "You'll laugh, when you hear! Falloden and I are going to set up house together, in the cottage on Boar's Hill. He's going to read and I'm to be allowed a piano, and a piano-player.
Sorell glanced in bitterness at the maimed hand lying on the bed. It was still bandaged, but he knew very well what sort of a shapeless, ruined thing it would emerge, when the bandages were thrown aside.
"When we were riding, you ordered me yes, it was practically that! you warned me, in a manner that nobody nobody has any right to use with me unless he were my fiancé or my husband that I was not to dance with Otto Radowitz I was not to see so much of Mr. Sorell. So just to show you that I was really not at your beck and call that you could not do exactly what you liked with me I danced with Mr.
He was working hard, at his symphony, and was on the whole much the same in health very frail and often extremely irritable; with alternations of cheerfulness and depression. "And Mr. Falloden?" Connie ventured. "He's coming soon I didn't ask," said Sorell shortly. "That arrangement won't last long." Connie hesitated. "But don't wish it to fail!" she said piteously.
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