There was something within
himself--something connected with the man who had gone, leaving unrest
behind him, as he left it wherever he passed. What was this? whither
would it lead?
Arthur Agar rang the bell, and kept the "gyp" in the room on some trivial
pretext. He was afraid of solitude.
CHAPTER XVII
TWO MOTIVES
Making vain pretence
Of gladness, with an awful sense
Of one mute shadow watching all.
"Pooh! the girl is happy enough!"
Mr. Glynde jerked his newspaper up and read an advertisement of
steamships about to depart to the West Coast of Africa. His wife--engaged
in cutting out a scarlet flannel garment of diminutive proportions (an
operation which she made a point of performing on the study table)--gave
two gentle snips and ceased her occupation.
She looked at the back of her husband's head, where the hair was getting
a little thin, and said nothing. No one argued with the Reverend Thomas
Glynde.
"The girl is happy enough," he repeated, seeking contradiction.
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