J. D. Beresford

“ Mr Kenyon said, with a lift of his eyebrows. "Well, youth and senility are the ages of selfishness, and when there comes a clash between them it is senility that always must give way. And yet, Arthur, I should be so glad if you could stay with me—till the end. ”

“ Arthur continued, "but the truth is that I like Hubert, and I'm rather sorry for him. ..."
"Sorry for him?" Mr Kenyon repeated with a faint surprise.
"We young men of the present generation, sir," Arthur explained, revelling now in his sense of liberty, "think a great deal of our freedom. I don't mean to say that Hubert has any particular ambition in that direction. He was brought up in a different atmosphere. ”

“ Mr Kenyon still had his hands on the young man's shoulders, and he gave him a gentle shake as he said, "Very well, that's a bargain then; and I may tell you that you've taken a great weight off my mind. Now, go and tell Hubert to come up to me. I'll promise to let him off more lightly than he deserves."
Arthur strode out of the room with the conscious pride of one who has all life at his feet.
Eleanor rose from the desk at which she was writing as he entered. ”

“ Arthur did not want to hear any more. He was sorry that he had heard so much. These petty criticisms of old Kenyon made him despise Turner and his uncle; they represented another aspect of their cowardice. Damn it, the old man was worth the lot of them, if you excluded Eleanor. ”

“ She faced him with a cool, steady stare. "You can't seriously believe," she said, "that I should be so mean and small as to persuade you into this for any purely selfish purpose of my own? Why, none of them would be as paltry as that."
He blushed, but he would not drop his eyes from hers. "I'm to respect your motives, of course," he said defiantly; "but you're at liberty to impute any sort of cowardice to me?"
"Isn't it cowardice then?" she asked, returning his stare without flinching. "Haven't you changed your mind because you're afraid of having to leave here?" ”

“ Not until he stopped speaking did Arthur see how terribly he had embarrassed them by thus naming the secret thing in public. Mrs Turner was fumbling with her work; her husband leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling; and Elizabeth, flushing slightly, got up and walked over to the window. ”

“ Hartling windows did not rattle in the gale, nor let in the wet. A day such as this gave a zest to the comfort of it all. And although one could not go out there was plenty to do, any amount of books to read, billiards with Turner, and probably they would play bridge in the afternoon—his uncle, Turner, and Elizabeth all played quite a good game. ...
If the old man turned him out for interfering in a matter in which he was not concerned, he would have to go back to Somers for a night or two. ”

“ Arthur said. "The fact is, sir, that Hubert has fallen in love, and for some reason that I can't pretend to understand, neither he nor my uncle seem to care about coming to ask your consent to his marriage. So—so I've come to plead his cause for him."
"Who is the girl he wants to marry?" Mr Kenyon put in. A change had come over him in the course of Arthur's last sentences. He sat less stiffly in his chair; he had the air of a man re-confronted by some familiar trouble with which he had often battled in the past.
"Her name is Dorothy Martin," Arthur began. "She ..." ”