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If they were met earlier, and fairly I am only quoting him they would not, I think he said, or would hardly, or would not generally, fall into professional agitation. 'Austin's a speculative Tory, I know; and that's his weakness, observed the colonel. 'But I'm certain you misunderstood him. He never would have called us a lazy people. 'Not in matters of business: in matters of thought.
He said, 'Throw your handkerchief to whichever of us you love. And they stood side by side like this" he ranged himself by Austin's side "opposite the girl." "And she threw the handkerchief!" cried Viviette. "Throw yours!" said Dick. He looked at her with fierce intensity beneath rugged brows; Austin with laughing challenge.
"You never thought of this yourself," went on the bewildered parent, ignoring Austin's last remark, feeling that his children were treating him most unfairly by indulging in so many affairs of the heart which could not possibly have a fortunate outcome. "I haven't noticed a thing, and I'm sure your mother hasn't, or she would have spoken about it to me. Why, Edith's hardly out of her cradle."
Clement Austin's life was not an easy one, and he had no time to turn amateur detective, even in the service of the woman ha loved. He had no time to turn amateur detective so long as he remained at the banking-house in St. Gundolph Lane. But could he remain there? That question arose in his mind, and took a very serious form.
I am not going to school, and you might as well understand it!" Austin's lips set in two straight lines that meant battle. If the children were not going to yield obedience to him, he would not be able to keep the home together. Amy ought to see this. He said no more, and left the house without a word of good-by.
Into this situation rode the fine gentleman from the colonial world of fashion who was to fix the fate of Desire Michell and his own. From this point on, the diary was a record of the same story as the "History of Ye foule Witch, Desire Michell." The love affair that followed Sir Austin's visit to the clergyman's house leaped hot and instant as flame from oil and fire brought together.
I have traced a clear line of descent back to Simon Turrald, younger brother of the last baron, and there are no coheirs in existence. Ours is the last surviving branch, or it would, perhaps, be better if I said that Austin and myself, and Austin's son, are the only male members of the family.
You should see that Mr. Thompson, Mr. Wentworth a friend o' Mr. Richard's, and a very modest-minded young gentleman he worships her in his innocence. It's a sight to see him with that baby. My belief is he's unhappy 'cause he can't anyways be nurse-maid to him. O Mr. Wentworth! what do you think of her, sir?" Austin's reply was as satisfactory as a man's poor speech could make it.
Austin's belief that the "baby was killing me by inches," since she took it into her head to sleep with no one else, and to play half the night, and to stay with me all day besides, I felt myself "ostracized." The whole matter was so sudden that I scarcely knew what to make of it. Mr.
Ain't he got passion? Ain't he a splendid roarer? Oh!" and she went off rapturously into baby-language. A fine boy, certainly. Mrs. Berry exhibited his legs for further proof, desiring Austin's confirmation as to their being dumplings. Lucy murmured a word of excuse, and bore the splendid roarer out of the room. "She might a done it here," said Mrs. Berry. "There's no prettier sight, I say.
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