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Sinclair, May, 1863-1946

"The Divine Fire"

"
"And supposing--none arise?"
"I must risk it."
"You seem to have a positive mania for taking risks." Yes, that was
Rickman all over, he found a brilliant joy in the excitement; he was
in love with danger.
"Oh well, sometimes, you know, you've _got_ to take them."
Happy Rickman! The things that were so difficult and complicated to
Jewdwine were so simple, so incontestable to him. "Some people,
Rickman, would say you were a fool." He sighed, and the sigh was a
tribute his envy paid to Rickman's foolishness. "I won't offer an
opinion; the event will prove."
"It won't prove anything. Events never do. They merely happen."
"Well, if they happen wrong, and I can help you, you've only got to
come to me."
Never in all his life had Jewdwine so nearly achieved the grace of
humility as in this offer of his help. He would have given anything if
Rickman could have accepted it, but refusal was a foregone conclusion.
And yet he offered it.
"Thanks--thanks awfully." It was Rickman who appeared nervous and
ashamed. His mouth twitched; he held out his hand abruptly; he was
desperately anxious to say good-night and get it over. It seemed to
him that he had been six years taking leave of Jewdwine; each year had
seen the departure of some quality he had known him by. He wanted to
have done with it now for ever.
But Jewdwine would not see his hand. He turned away; paced the floor;
swung back on a hesitating heel and approached him, smiling.


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