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He saw her eyes only that troubled his. "I say, is it very beastly?" "No. Not a bit. You must go, Steven, you must go." "If I'd only known," he persisted. They were going down the path now toward the house. "I wouldn't have let you " "You couldn't have stopped me." She smiled. "You didn't stop me going, you know." "If you'd only told me " She smiled again, a smile as of infinite wisdom.
The movement of lifting his head and raising his hand to his glasses had become so closely associated, that his hand went up even when there was no apparent need for the action. Steven spoke of himself as a Broad Churchman, and in his speech on prize-day he never omitted some allusion to the necessity for "marching" or "keeping step" with the times.
Try to think, and then it will be all right." Up from the street came the air of: "There were three crows," and the words: "Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth, Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth. Steven Maguire has schemed and schemed, But all his schemes will end in froth! And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.
But Elmer was inclined to laugh at this assumption of modernity. "Steven," he said, on one occasion, "marks time and thinks he is keeping step. And every now and then he runs a little to catch up."
"I wish I knew what to do about Alice," she said. "What to do about her?" "Yes. Am I to have her at the house or not?" He stared. "Of course you're to have her at the house." "I mean when we've got people here. I can't ask her to meet them." "You must ask her. It's the very least you can do for her." "People aren't going to like it, Steven."
Mary opened her eyes, sighed, stretched herself, put out the light, and followed him. Not long after that night it struck Mary that Steven was run down. He worked too hard. That was how she accounted to herself for his fits of exhaustion, of irritability and depression. But secretly, for all her complacence, she had divined the cause.
There were all sorts of interesting things to be done in Leeds by a man of Rowcliffe's keenness and energy. "Do you know, Steven, you're getting quite stout?" "I do know," he said almost with bitterness. "I don't mean horridly stout, dear, just nicely and comfortably stout." "I'm too comfortable," he said. "I don't do enough work to keep me fit." "Is that what's bothering you?" He frowned.
"How funny we are," she said, "when we know all the time we couldn't really do a caddish thing like that." He smiled queerly. "I suppose we couldn't." He too rose and faced her. "Do you know what this means?" he said. "It means that I've got to clear out of this." "Oh, Steven " The brave light in her face went out. "You wouldn't go away and leave me?" "God knows I don't want to leave you, Gwenda.
No one had believed in me before I had never believed in myself or in man, or in God, either. But I had to believe in you, and afterward the rest came." She drew herself upright and looked him full in the dark eyes. "Steven, do you trust me?" He nodded. "As you did on that day when you told me that you owed me all that you were and ever would be?" "As then, Beatrice." She smiled gravely.
His most junior staff officer, Count Steven of Ravary, didn't seem to appreciate the compliment. "We are Space Vikings!" he insisted. "And we are going to battle with the Neobarbarians of Zaspar Makann." "Well, I won't argue the last half of it, Steven," his father told him. "Are you people done yakking about who's civilized and who isn't?" Guatt Kirbey asked. "Then give the signal.
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