And if
it sinks or is driven back by adverse winds and frowning skies, there
is an end of his legitimate dealings with such frail merchandise.
And now he, Harold Quaritch, was about to put forth this second
venture, not of his own desire or free will indeed, but because his
reason and judgment were over-mastered. In short, he had fallen in
love with Ida de la Molle when he first saw her five years ago, and
was now in the process of discovering the fact. There he sat in his
chair in the old half-furnished room, which he proposed to turn into
his dining-room, and groaned in spirit over this portentous discovery.
What had become of his fair prospect of quiet years sloping gently
downwards, and warm with the sweet drowsy light of afternoon? How was
it that he had not known those things that belonged to his peace? And
probably it would end in nothing. Was it likely that such a splendid
young woman as Ida would care for a superannuated army officer, with
nothing to recommend him beyond five or six hundred a year and a
Victoria Cross, which he never wore. Probably if she married at all
she would try to marry someone who would assist to retrieve the fallen
fortunes of her family, which it was absolutely beyond his power to
do. Altogether the outlook did not please him, as he sat there far
into the watches of the night, and pulled at his empty pipe.
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