The Dweller on the Threshold by Robert Smythe Hichens
page 60 of 226 (26%)
page 60 of 226 (26%)
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"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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