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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Will Warburton"

Hopper's
precincts, and then decided that he had better take a walk; to sit
still and brood was the worst possible way of facing such a crisis.
There was no friend with whom he could discuss the situation; none
whose companionship would just now do him any particular good.
Better to walk twenty miles, and tire himself out, and see how
things looked after a good night's sleep, So he put on his soft hat,
and took his walking-stick, and slammed the door behind him. Some
one was coming up the stairs; sunk in his own thoughts he paid no
heed, even when the other man stood in front of him. Then a familiar
voice claimed his attention.
"Do you want to cut me, Warburton?"


CHAPTER 16


Warburton stopped, and looked into the speaker's face, as if he
hardly recognised him.
"You're going out," added Franks, turning round. "I won't keep you."
And he seemed about to descend the stairs quickly. But Will at
length found voice.
"Come in. I was thinking of something, and didn't see you."
They entered, and passed as usual into the sitting-room, but not
with the wonted exchange of friendly words. The interval since their
last meeting seemed to have alienated them more than the events
which preceded it. Warburton was trying to smile, but each glance he
took at the other's face made his lips less inclined to relax from a
certain severity rarely seen in them; and Franks succeeded but ill
in his attempt to lounge familiarly, with careless casting of the
eye this way and that.


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