Denzil Quarrier | Page 6

success in a good many
directions. Never quite succeeded; there's the misfortune. I suppose he
lacks perseverance. But he doesn't care; takes everything with a laugh
and a joke."

He reached for the evening newspaper, and glanced absently over the
columns. For a minute or two there was silence.
"What have you told him?" Lilian asked at length, in an undertone.
"Why, simply that I have had reasons for keeping my marriage secret."
He spoke in a blunt, authoritative way, but with his usual kindly smile.
"I thought it better," he added, "after that chance meeting the other day.
He's a fellow one can trust, I assure you. Thoroughly good-hearted. As
you know, I don't readily make friends, and I'm the last man to give my
confidence to any one who doesn't deserve it. But Glazzard and I have
always understood each other pretty well, and--at all events, he knows
me well enough to be satisfied with as much as I choose to tell him."
Quarrier had the air of a man who, without any vulgar patronage, and in
a spirit of abundant good-nature, classifies his acquaintance in various
degrees of subordination to himself. He was too healthy, too vigorous
of frame and frank in manner to appear conceited, but it was evident
that his experience of life had encouraged a favourable estimate of his
own standing and resources. The ring of his voice was sound; no
affectation or insincerity marred its notes. For all that, he seemed just
now not entirely comfortable; his pretence of looking over the paper in
the intervals of talk was meant to cover a certain awkwardness in
discussing the subject he had broached.
"You don't object to his coming, Lily?"
"No; whatever you think best, dear."
"I'm quite sure you'll find him pleasant company. But we must get him
a dinner, somehow. I'll go to some hotel to-morrow morning and put
the thing in their hands; they'll send a cook, or do something or other. If
the girl had been here we should have managed well enough; Glazzard
is no snob.--I want to smoke; come into my study, will you? No fire?
Get up some wood, there's a good girl, we'll soon set it going. I'd fetch
it myself, but I shouldn't know where to look for it."
A flame was soon roaring up the chimney in the little back room, and
Quarrier's pipe filled the air with fragrant mist.
"How is it," he exclaimed, settling in the arm-chair, "that there are so
many beggars in this region? Two or three times this last week I've
been assailed along the street. I'll put a stop to that; I told a great
hulking fellow to-night that if he spoke to me again (it was the second
time) I would take the trouble of marching him to the nearest police

station."
"Poor creatures!" sighed Lilian.
"Pooh! Loafing blackguards, with scarcely an exception! Well, I was
going to tell you: Glazzard comes from my own town, Polterham. We
were at the Grammar School there together; but he read AEschylus and
Tacitus whilst I was grubbing over Eutropius and the Greek
declensions."
"Is he so much older then? He seemed to me"----
"Six years older--about five-and-thirty. He's going down to Polterham
on Saturday, and I think I shall go with him."
"Go with him? For long?"
"A week, I think. I want to see my brother-in-law. You won't mind
being left alone?"
"No; I shall do my best to keep in good spirits."
"I'll get you a batch of new books. I may as well tell you, Liversedge
has been persuaded to stand as Liberal candidate for Polterham at the
next election. It surprised me rather; I shouldn't have thought he was
the kind of fellow to go in for politics. It always seemed to be as little
in his line as it is in mine."
"And do you wish to advise him against it?"
"Oh no; there's no harm in it. I suppose Beaconsfield and crew have
roused him. I confess I should enjoy helping to kick them into space.
No, I just want to talk it over with him. And I owe them a visit; they
took it rather ill that I couldn't go with them to Ireland."
Lilian sat with bent head. Casting a quick glance at her, Quarrier talked
on in a cheerful strain.
"I'm afraid he isn't likely to get in. The present member is an old fogey
called Welwyn-Baker; a fat-headed Tory; this is his third Parliament.
They think he's going to set up his son next time--a fool, no doubt, but I
have no knowledge of him. I'm afraid Liversedge isn't the man to stir
enthusiasm."
"But is there any one to be made enthusiastic on that side?" asked
Lilian.
"Well, it's a