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Updated: June 28, 2025
Half a million of people would be reading him within a week, and every one of them would write to him, and their friends and relations would write too. He laid down the paper with a shudder. The two notes looked harmless enough, and the calligraphy of one was vaguely familiar. He opened the envelope and looked at the signature: Duncan Vyse.
"Just after the trial an uncle obligingly died and left me nine thousand pounds on the understanding I should take his name; so I did, of course, and turned myself from James Vyse into James Herrick." "Then no one will know?" "No. But this life, this vagabond river life that both you and I love, wouldn't suit Eva very long.
The answer was long in coming. Betton fumed at the delay, watched, wondered, fretted; then he received the one word "Impossible." He wrote back more urgently, and awaited the reply with increasing eagerness. A certain shyness had kept him from once more modifying the instructions regarding his mail, and Strett still carried the letters directly to Vyse.
Vyse," and Betton, a moment later, crossed the threshold of his pleasant library. His first thought was that the man facing him from the hearth-rug was the very Duncan Vyse of old: small, starved, bleached-looking, with the same sidelong movements, the same queer air of anaemic truculence. Only he had grown shabbier, and bald. Betton held out a hospitable hand. "This is a good surprise!
Did he at all know what he wanted to do? He was equally uncertain, but when pressed remarked that he should prefer to be quite free of any profession. Margaret was not shocked, but went on sewing for a few minutes before she replied: "I was thinking of Mr. Vyse. He never strikes me as particularly happy.
"I mean that you saw I couldn't live without flattery, and that you've been ladling it out to me to earn your keep." Vyse sat motionless and shrunken, digging the blotting-pad with his pen. "What on earth are you driving at?" he repeated.
"Still, Freddy never hit it off with Vyse much, did he? I gathered that he disliked the engagement, and felt it might separate him from you." "Boys are so odd." Minnie could be heard arguing with Miss Bartlett through the floor. Tea at the Beehive apparently involved a complete change of apparel. Mr.
He never realized that it may be an act of kindness in a bad player to make up a fourth. "Oh, come along Cecil. I'm bad, Floyd's rotten, and so I dare say's Emerson." George corrected him: "I am not bad." One looked down one's nose at this. "Then certainly I won't play," said Cecil, while Miss Bartlett, under the impression that she was snubbing George, added: "I agree with you, Mr. Vyse.
They'll begin again as they did before. The people who read carefully read slowly you haven't heard yet what they think." Betton felt a rush of puerile joy at the suggestion. Actually, he hadn't thought of that! "There was a big second crop after 'Diadems and Faggots," he mused aloud. "Of course. Wait and see," said Vyse confidently.
"I have," said Cecil, and it did not escape Mr. Beebe's notice that he spoke to the boy more kindly. "You have never met these Miss Alans, have you, Mr. Vyse?" "Never." "Then you don't see the wonder of this Greek visit. I haven't been to Greece myself, and don't mean to go, and I can't imagine any of my friends going. It is altogether too big for our little lot. Don't you think so?
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