Fenwick's Career

by Mrs. Humphry Ward

Cuningham turned away from it with a shudder.

'Some of it's magnificent, Dick—but I couldn't live with it if you paid me!'

'Because you look at it wrongly,' said Watson, gruffly. 'You take it as an anecdote. It isn't an anecdote—it's a symbol.'

'What?—The World?—and The Victim?—from all time?—and to all time? Well, that makes it more gruesome than ever. Hullo, who's that? Come in!'

The door opened. A young man, in some embarrassment, appeared on the threshold.

'I believe these letters are yours,' he said, offering a couple to
Cuningham. 'They brought them up to me by mistake.'

Philip Cuningham took them with thanks, then scanned the newcomer as he was turning to depart.

'I think I saw you at Berners Street the other night?'

John Fenwick paused.

'Yes—' he said, awkwardly.