So that which the placid moon shone down upon was the break-up of
the great Simiacine scheme. Victor Durnovo had not come off so
badly. He had the larger half of the men by his side. He had all
the finest crop the trees had yielded--but he had yet to reckon with
high Heaven.
CHAPTER XXXIV. AMONG THORNS
We shut our hearts up nowadays,
Like some old music-box that plays
Unfashionable airs.
Sir John Meredith was sitting stiffly in a straight-backed chair by
his library fire. In his young days men did not loll in deep
chairs, with their knees higher than their heads. There were no
such chairs in this library, just as there was no afternoon tea
except for ladies. Sir John Meredith was distressed to observe a
great many signs of the degeneration of manhood, which he attributed
to the indulgence in afternoon tea. Sir John had lately noticed
another degeneration, namely, in the quality of the London gas. So
serious was this falling off that he had taken to a lamp in the
evening, which lamp stood on the table at his elbow.
Some months earlier--that is to say, about six months after Jack's
departure--Sir John had called casually upon an optician. He stood
upright by the counter, and frowned down on a mild-looking man who
wore the strongest spectacles made, as if in advertisement of his
own wares.
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