tle, was interested. "I never heard him speak about a Miss Percival," she said. She used a careless tone, but her flickering eyelids betrayed her.
"You wouldn't, you know," he told her with the same sympathetic earnestness. "There was too much of a row. He was cut all to pieces. I thought he'd go under; but he's not that sort. Who called somebody--some political johnny--the Sea-green Incorruptible? Oh, ask me another! You might call old Senhouse the Green-tea Irrepressible; for that was his drink (to keep himself awake all night, writin' poems), and there never was a cork that would hold him down--not even Sancie Percival. No, no, out he must come--fizzling."
"I see," said Mrs. Germain, still looking at her fingers in her lap. "I'm very much interested. You mean that he was very much--that he paid her a great deal of attention?"
Chevenix stared roundly about him. "Attention! Oh, heavens! Why, three of his letters to her would fill The Times for a week--and he kept it up for years! She used t
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