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Updated: June 14, 2025
There was more ground for Mr Cupples's warning than Alec had the smallest idea of. He had concluded long ago that all possible relations, even those of enmity practical enmity at least were over between them, and that Mr Beauchamp considered the bejan sufficiently punished for thrashing him, by being deprived of his condescending notice for the rest of the ages.
The only thing he could do was to attend to Mr Cupples's business in the library, where he worked at the catalogue till the afternoon lecture was over. Nobody had seen Beauchamp, and the blinds of Kate's windows were drawn down.
'Trust you for that, rejoined Trent, carefully filling his pipe again. He lit it, smoked a little, and then said, 'I'll try and guess what your reason is, if you like. Mr. Cupples's face of solemnity relaxed into a slight smile. He said nothing.
But the look of pitying and yet deprecating concern in Mr Cupples's face fixed him so that he could say nothing. Mr Cupples turned and walked slowly away, with only the words: "Eh! bantam! bantam! The Lord hae pity upo' ye�-and me too!" He went out at the door bowed like an old man. "Preserve's, Mr Cupples! What ails ye?" exclaimed his landlady meeting him in the passage.
Alec's heart gave way utterly. He knelt at Mr Cupples's feet, laid his head on his knee, and burst into very unsaxon but most gracious tears. Mr Cupples laid a small trembling hand on the boy's head, saying, "Eh! bantam, bantam!" and could say no more. "Mr Cupples," sobbed Alec, "forgive me. I'll cut my throat, gin ye like." "Ye wad do better to cut the deevil's throat." "Hoo could I do that?
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