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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"The Unclassed"

Doubts and suspicions which would
ordinarily never have occurred to him filled his mind. He was again
quite silent till his office was reached.
Waymark had not been. They walked upstairs together, and Mr.
Woodstock asked his companion to be seated. He himself stood, and
began to poke the fire.
"Do you live in Chelsea still?" he suddenly asked.
"Yes."
"I have left word at Waymark's lodgings that he is to come straight
here whenever he returns. If he's not here by midnight, should I
find you up if I called--say at half-past twelve or so?"
"I would in any case wait up for you, with pleasure?"
"Really," said Mr. Woodstock, who could behave with much courtesy
when he chose, "I must apologise for taking such liberties. Our
acquaintance is so slight. And yet I believe you would willingly
serve me in the matter in hand. Perhaps you guess what it is. Never
mind; I could speak of that when I came to you, if I have to come."
Julian's pale cheek had flushed with a sudden warmth. He looked at
the other, and faced steadily the gaze that met his own.
"I am absolutely at your disposal," he said, in a voice which he
tried to make firm, though with small success.
"I am obliged to you.


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