Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
290
Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
276
With
something
of
a
conventual
hush
in
her
voice,
she
said
to
the
butler,
“Please
tell
my
maid
that
we
are
leaving
by
a
very
early
train
to-morrow,
and
that
she
must
pack
my
things
to-night.”
“Very
well,
Miss,”
said
the
butler.
“The
Warden,”
he
added,
“is
in
the
study,
Miss,
and
was
asking
for
you.”
She
could
face
her
grandfather
without
a
tremour--now.
She
would
hear
meekly
whatever
reproaches
he
might
have
for
her,
but
their
sting
was
already
drawn
by
the
surprise
she
had
in
store
for
him.
It
was
he
who
seemed
a
trifle
nervous.
In
his
“Well,
did
you
come
and
peep
down
from
the
gallery?”
there
was
a
distinct
tremour.
Throwing
aside
her
cloak,
she
went
quickly
to
him,
and
laid
a
hand
on
the
lapel
of
his
coat.
“Poor
grand-papa!”
she
said.
“Nonsense,
my
dear
child,”
he
replied,
disengaging
himself.
“I
didn’t
give
it
a
thought.
If
the
young
men
chose
to
be
so
silly
as
to
stay
away,
I--I--”
“Grand-papa,
haven’t
you
been
told
YET?”
“Told?
I
am
a
Gallio
for
such
follies.
I
didn’t
inquire.”
“But
(forgive
me,
grand-papa,
if
I
seem
to
you,
for
the
moment,
pert)
you
are
Warden
here.
It
is
your
duty,
even
your
privilege,
to
GUARD.
Is
it
not?
Well,
I
grant
you
the
adage
that
it
is
useless
to
bolt
the
stable
door
when
the
horse
has
been
stolen.
But
what
shall
be
said
of
the
ostler
who
doesn’t
know--won’t
even
‘inquire’
whether--the
horse
HAS
been
stolen,
grand-papa?”
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
