‘You can’t prove nothing. “It’s—it’s a difficult question. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. The door leaned inward. “Yeah. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. ” “You could never be that,” he answered, “but you are at least more serious than usual. Always remember that. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief.
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