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Updated: June 17, 2025
The Squire had stepped hastily and heavily on to his dog's paw. The creature gave a grievous howl. Mr. Pendyce went down on his knees and raised the limb. "Damn the dog!" he stuttered. "Oh, poor fellow, John!" And the two long and narrow heads for a moment were close together.
He sat there as though youth had left him, unmoving, never lifting his eyes. In his stubborn mind a wheel seemed turning, grinding out his memories to the last grain. And Stoics, who could not bear to see a man sit thus throughout that sacred hour, came up from time to time. "Aren't you going to dine, Pendyce?" Dumb brutes tell no one of their pains; the law is silence. So with George.
And since on taking Orders he had abandoned for ever the use of bad language, he was very near an apoplectic fit. Suddenly he became aware that Mrs. Pendyce was looking at him from the conservatory door. Her face was painfully white, her eyebrows lifted, and before that look Mr. Barter recovered a measure of self-possession. "Is anything the matter, Mr. Barter?" The Rector smiled grimly.
And now George is in trouble " As suddenly as it had broken forth the torrent of her words dried up. Mr. Pendyce had come back to the foot of the bed, and once more gripped the rail whereon the candle, still and bright, showed them each other's faces, very changed from the faces that they knew.
Then the spaniel John, coming silently from under the sideboard, fell heavily down against his master's leg with a lengthy snore of satisfaction. Mr. Pendyce looked down. "This fellow of mine," he muttered, "is getting fat." It was evident from the tone of his voice that he desired his emotion to be forgotten. Something very deep in Mr. Barter respected that desire.
He gazed at the singer, and though he was not musical, there came a look into his eyes that he quickly hid away. A slight murmur occurred in the centre of the room, and from the fireplace Gerald called out, "Thanks; that's rippin!" The voice of General Pendyce rose in the bay-window: "Check!" Mrs.
Pendyce came to Piccadilly and turned westward towards George's club. She knew it well, for she never failed to look at the windows when she passed, and once on the occasion of Queen Victoria's Jubilee had spent a whole day there to see that royal show.
Bellew and Pendyce"! And this would go down to fame in company with the pitiful stories she had read from time to time with a sort of offended interest; in company with "Snooks v. Snooks and Stiles," "Horaday v. Horaday," "Bethany v. Bethany and Sweetenham."
Lady Malden gave her a sharp look. "Society for the Rescue of Women and Children, of course. Surely you know about that?" Mrs. Pendyce continued to smile. "Ah, yes, that is nice! What a beautiful figure she has! It's so refreshing. I envy a woman with a figure like that; it looks as if it would never grow old. 'Society for the Regeneration of Women'? Gregory's so good about that sort of thing.
Barter, astride of a gilt chair, looked almost sympathetic, gazing tenderly at the old Skye. Mrs. Pendyce felt a sudden yearning to free her mind, a sudden longing to ask a man's advice. "Oh, Mr. Barter," she said, "my cousin, Gregory Vigil, has just brought me some news; it is confidential, please. Helen Bellew is going to sue for a divorce.
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