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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

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The doctor began to speak quickly
and energetically. "Oh, thank you very much, but I'm all right," came
suddenly in loud clear tones from Quisante. The doctor spoke again.
Quisante shook his head, laughing merrily. Marchmont looked at May; her
eyes were on her husband and they were full of fear. "I'd forgotten," he
heard her murmur. She turned to him with an imploring air. "He won't
listen," she said.
A burst of laughter came from Quisante's group; he had made some joke and
they all applauded him. Tillman stood for a moment longer before him,
then gave a queer jerk of his head, and turned sharp round on his heel.
He came back towards where she stood. She took a step forward and thus
crossed his path, Marchmont and the Dean standing on either side of her.
"You remember me, Dr. Tillman?" she asked. "I'm Mr. Quisante's wife, you
know."
He stood still, looking at her angrily from under his bushy eyebrows.
"Take him home then," he said sharply. "It was madness to let him come
here at all. You're flying in the face of the advice you've had.


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