But nowadays everything is
distorted by ridiculous humanitarian nonsense. With our wonderful
inventions, our increasing knowledge of sanitation and science, and the
possibilities and limitations of the human body, what glorious people we
should become if we could choke this double-headed hydra of rotten
sentiment and exalt common sense!"
But now Mrs. Cricklander saw that a storm was gathering upon Mr.
Hanbury-Green's brow and, admirable hostess that she was, she decided to
smooth the troubled waters, so she went across the room to the piano,
and began to play a seductive valse, while John Derringham followed her
and leaned upon the lid, and tried to feel as devoted as he looked.
"Why cannot we go to-morrow and see your old master?" she asked, as her
white fingers, with their one or two superb rings, glided over the keys.
"I feel an unaccountable desire to become acquainted with him. I should
love to see what the person was like who molded you when you were a
boy."
"Mr. Carlyon is a wonderful-looking old man," John Derringham returned.
"Someone--who knows him very well--described him long ago as 'Cheiron.
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