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"Pooh!" said Urquhart, "what you call thriving I call degradation. What! you snuggle in there out of the draughts and then somebody comes along and rubs you, and picks up bits of paper with you." His good spirits made the thing go and James's eyeglass prevailed not against it.
Peter would have understood the love; the thing he would not have understood was the feeling that had flung her on the tide of reaction at Mr. Margerison's feet. Mr. Margerison was a hard liver and a tremendous giver. Both these things had come to mean a great deal to Sylvia Urquhart much more than they had meant to the girl Sylvia Hope.
There's a Berovieri goblet that some Venetian count has, that Leslie's set his heart on. We are to acquire it, regardless of expense, if it turns out to be all that is rumoured." Urquhart scoffed here. "Nice to be infallible, isn't it. You and your goblets and your Ignorant Rich. And your brother Hilary and my uncle Evelyn. Your great gifts seem to run in the family.
"I don't think," Urquhart was saying, "that you ought to walk so far in the night. It's weakening." To Urquhart Peter had always been a brittle incompetent, who could not do things, who kept breaking into bits if roughly handled. "Rodney and I don't think," Peter returned, in the hushed voice that belonged to the still hour, "that you ought to motor so loud in the night. It's common.
His record is one for any man to be proud of, for to his own hand he owes his present distinguished position. I again quote from the North Star: "Colonel Macdonald was born at Rootfield, in the parish of Urquhart, in the county of Ross and Cromarty, and on the property of Mr Mackenzie of Allangrange.
Lancelot led the way back, but at the entry of the drawing-room, where the talk was buzzing like bees in a lime-tree, he put his hand on the switch, and showed the whites of his eyes. "Shall I dare you to switch it off?" he said to Urquhart, who replied, "Don't, or I shall do it." Lancelot and he entered the room; but before the Judge followed there was a momentary flicker of the lights.
James, when made aware that she was coming, ducked his head, it is true, but made a damaging defence. "Is she?" he said. "Why?" "She'll make our number a square one," she replied, "to begin with. And she might make it more pleasant for the others Francis Lingen and Mr. Urquhart." If she hadn't been self-conscious she would never have said such a thing as that.
It follows that if he had been a fool, Urquhart had not! Impudent dog, if you like, but not a fool. Now, for the life of him, James could not despise a man who was not a fool. Nor could he hate one whom he had bested. He did not hate Urquhart; he wasn't angry with him; he couldn't despise him. On the contrary, he was sorry for him.
Of his professional promise, on the other hand, there could be no question; and the men liked and respected him. Our senior ensign at this date was a Mr. Urquhart, the eldest son of a West Highland laird, and heir to a considerable estate. He had been in barracks when Mr.
She moves with her finger on her lip. And that, mind you, without coddling. She'll risk him to the hair's-breadth and never a word. But she won't risk herself. Not she! Why, she might be wanted! But there it is. Women can do these things, God knows how! It's men who make a fuss. Well, well but I babble." "My dear man," said Urquhart, "not at all. It's a thing you never do."
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