She had even once or twice shielded him
from Dicky's never unjust wrath. And he had come to love her second only
to Dicky who must for ever hold the foremost place in his heart.
He had come to love her--and he stood between her and happiness. He did
not reason the matter. He had small reasoning power. He recognized that
Jack's brain was superior to his, and Jack had made known to him this
monstrous thing. True, Dicky had denied it, but somehow that denial had
not been so convincing as Jack's statement had been. The corrosive poison
had already done its work, and there was no antidote. He knew that Dicky
loved Juliet, knew it from his own lips. "The woman I love--the woman I
love--" How often had the low-spoken words recurred to his memory! And
Dicky was not happy. He had watched him narrowly ever since that night.
Dicky was not really hopeful for the winning of his heart's desire. He
had said there were many obstacles. What they were, Robin could but
vaguely conjecture--save one! And that one stood out in the darkness of
his soul, clear as a cross against the falling night. Dicky had no chance
of winning any woman so long as he--the village idiot--the hideous
abortion--stood in his way.
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