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The Dweller on the Threshold by Robert Smythe Hichens
page 60 of 226 (26%)
"You look tired," said Malling.

The fact was that Chichester had never recovered the color he had so
suddenly lost when they were discussing Mr. Harding.

"It's no wonder if I do," rejoined Chichester, in a voice that sounded
hopeless.

He drank some coffee, seemed to make a strong effort to recover himself,
and, with more energy, said:

"I asked you here because I wanted to renew a pleasant acquaintanceship,
but also--you won't think me discourteous, I know--because--well, I had
a purpose in begging you to come."

"Won't you tell me what it is?"

The curate shifted in his armchair, clasped and unclasped his hands.
A mental struggle was evidently going on within him. Indeed, during
the whole evening Malling had received from him a strong impression of
combat, of confusion.

"I wanted to continue the discussion we began at Mr. Harding's the other
day. You remember, I asked you not to tell him you were coming?"

"Yes."

"I think it's best to keep certain matters private. People so easily
misunderstand one. And the rector has rather a jealous nature."

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