For it improves some men to wear
glasses; and Clovelly had a delightful, wheedling tongue. It was
allusive, contradictory (a thing pleasing to women), respectful yet
playful, bold yet reverential. Many a time I have longed for Clovelly's
tongue. Unfortunately for me, I learned some of his methods without his
art; and of this I am occasionally reminded at this day. A man like
Clovelly is dangerous as a rival when he is not in earnest; when he IS in
earnest, it becomes a lonely time for the other man--unless the girl is
perverse.
I left the two together, and moved about the deck, trying to think
closely about Roscoe's case, and to drive Clovelly's invasion from my
mind. I succeeded, and was only roused by Mrs. Falchion's voice beside
me.
"Does he suffer much?" she murmured.
When answered, she asked nervously how he looked--it was impossible that
she should consider misery without shrinking. I told her that he was only
flushed and haggard as yet and that he was little wasted. A thought
flashed to her face. She was about to speak, but paused. After a moment,
however, she remarked evenly: "He is likely to be delirious?"
"It is probable," I replied.
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