There will be an attack made on those men at
Riverley to-morrow which will melt them like an iceberg in Tartarus."
Mr. Temple was not classical, and, of course, did not say Tartarus.
Farnham was left alone. The reaction from the excitement of the last
few hours was settling upon him. The glow of the fight and his success
in it were dying away. Midnight was near, and a deep silence was
falling upon the city. There was no sound of bells, of steam-whistles,
or of rushing trains. The breeze could be heard in the quiet, stirring
the young, soft leaves. Farnham felt sore, beaten, discomfited. He
smiled a little bitterly to himself when he considered that the cause
of his feeling of discouragement was that Alice Belding had spoken to
him with coldness and shyness when she opened her door. He could not
help saying to himself, "I deserved a kinder greeting than she gave me.
She evidently wished me to understand that I am not to be permitted any
further intimacy. I have forfeited that by presuming to love her. But
how lovely she is! When she took her mother in her arms, I thought of
all the Greek heroines I ever read about.
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