"Give me your hand," said Hilary.
The little model put out her not too white, small hand. It was soft,
clinging: and as hot as fire.
"Good-bye, my dear, and bless you!"
The little model gave him a look with who-knows-what of reproach in it,
and, faithful to her training, went submissively away.
Hilary did not look after her, but, standing by the lofty mantelpiece
above the ashes of the fire, rested his forehead on his arm. Not even a
fly's buzzing broke the stillness. There was sound for all that-not of
distant music, but of blood beating in his ears and temples.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE "BOOK OF UNIVERSAL BROTHERHOOD"
It is fitting that a few words should be said about the writer of the
"Book of Universal Brotherhood."
Sylvanus Stone, having graduated very highly at the London University,
had been appointed at an early age lecturer to more than one Public
Institution. He had soon received the professorial robes due to a man of
his profound learning in the natural sciences, and from that time
till he was seventy his life had flowed on in one continual round of
lectures, addresses, disquisitions, and arguments on the subjects in
which he was a specialist. At the age of seventy, long after his wife's
death and the marriages of his three children, he had for some time been
living by himself, when a very serious illness--the result of liberties
taken with an iron constitution by a single mind--prostrated him.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219