Thus in some sort Alexander
Quisante had his way; his hold on her was not relaxed, his dominion over
her not abrogated, to the end of his life he would be what she told him
he had been--almost everything. When the end came, what would he be? The
question crossed her thoughts, but found no answer; some day it would
fall to be answered. Now she could only watch and wait, half persuaded
that the pretence was no pretence, yet always dreading the summons of
reality to end the play. So the world asked in vain what May Quisante was
thinking of, whether she wanted to kill him, or whether she thought him
above all laws. A puzzle to the world and a puzzle to her friends, she
waited for the falling of the blow which Quisante daily challenged.
Sir Rufus Beaming met Dr. Claud Manton at the Athenaeum and showed him a
newspaper paragraph.
"To address a great meeting at Henstead!" said Manton, raising his brows
and shaping his lips for a whistle. "'From his own and neighbouring
constituencies.'"
"He might just as well take chloroform comfortably by his fireside," said
Sir Rufus.
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