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I've come here to-night to see a modern Paladin, a real crusader: "'Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, When a new planet swims into his ken." "Yes, that's poetry, Windlehurst, and you know I love it-I've always kept yours. But who's the man the planet?" "Egyptian Claridge." "Ah, he is in England?" "He will be here to-night; you shall see him." "Really! What is his origin?"
I've been in Parliament a generation or so, and I've never known an amateur more daring and skilful. I should have given him office had I remained in power. Look at him, and tell me if he wouldn't have been worth the backing." As Lord Windlehurst uttered the last word with an arid smile, he looked quizzically at the central figure of a group of people gaily talking.
If Sam Marlowe at that moment carolling blithely in his bedroom at the Blue Boar in Windlehurst, washing his hands preparatory to descending to the coffee-room for a bit of cold lunch could have seen her, the song would have frozen on his lips.
Windlehurst was a good actor, and he had broken off his words as though the group he was now watching had suddenly claimed his attention. "Well, well, Duchess," he said reflectively, "I see a new nine days' wonder yonder." Then, in response to a reminder from Hylda, he continued: "Ah, yes, the attack!
She thrust the letter into the Duchess's fingers. "You knew you knew! I saw the look that passed between you and Windlehurst at the opera. I understand all now. He left the House of Commons with her and you knew, oh, you knew! All the world knows every one knew but me." She threw up her hands. "But I've left him I've left him, for ever."
"I'm late, I know; but you'll forgive me you'll forgive me, dear lady," he added to Hylda, "for I've been listening to your husband making a smashing speech for a bad cause." Hylda smiled. "Then I must go and congratulate him," she answered, and withdrew her hand from that of Lord Windlehurst, who seemed to hold it longer than usual, and pressed it in a fatherly way.
He was now the well-modulated man of affairs, elegant in his simplicity of dress, with the dignified air of the intellectual, yet with the decision of a man who knew his mind. Lord Windlehurst was leaving. Now David and she were alone.
Bennett had forgotten to kiss him good-bye, and he went into the outer office to tell him so. But the outer office was empty. Sam stood for a moment in thought, then he returned to the inner office, and, picking up a time-table, began to look out trains to the village of Windlehurst in Hampshire, the nearest station to his aunt Adeline's charming old-world house, Windles.
He was now the well-modulated man of affairs, elegant in his simplicity of dress, with the dignified air of the intellectual, yet with the decision of a man who knew his mind. Lord Windlehurst was leaving. Now David and she were alone.
Your work is cut out, Betty, and I know you will do it as no one else can." "Oh, Windlehurst," she answered, with a hand clutching at his arm, "if we fail, it will kill me." "If she fails, it will kill her," he answered, "and she is very young. What is in her mind, who can tell? But she thinks she can help Claridge somehow. We must save her, Betty."
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