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She did not say this aloud. She in no way deviated from the scrupulous politeness of a hostess. There was nothing in even her tone to indicate that Mrs. John Baines was a personage. Yet it suddenly occurred to Miss Chetwynd that her pride in being the prospective sister-in-law of the Rev. Archibald Jones would be better for a while in her pocket. And she inquired after Mr. Baines.

"Well, old man," Dick Chetwynd said, when Mark entered the room, where he was still at breakfast, "I was beginning to wonder whether you had gone to Reigate. Why, when I saw you last Friday you told me that you would look me up in a day or two." "I have been busy showing London to Mrs.

I met him yesterday evening, and said that I had a fancy to go and have a look at it, and that a friend of mine from the country also wanted to go; he said at once that he would take us there. "'I should advise you not to play much, Chetwynd, he said; 'sometimes they play uncommonly high, and there are some fellows who have wonderful luck.

"He will never do that," said Saidie, going away with her message but half satisfied, and Bella turned a flushed cheek to her pillow. And then, for the second time, John Chetwynd asked, "Who is that man?" And Bella tried feebly to tell him. He had been attached to her for a long time, and had come over with her from the States. "And you did you mean to marry him, Bella?"

The oppressive resemblance between most of our friends' wives is one of the safe-guards of society." "What is that?" Chetwynd broke in upon his friend's speech with a nervous start and exclamation.

Perhaps John Chetwynd would have been a happier man had he been one of these. Even the task of furnishing fell to the doctor's lot.

He is very French in his ideas; but he knows England well, and speaks English perfectly." "French in his ideas!" echoed Sir Chetwynd Lyle, who was just preparing to leave the lounge. "Dear me! How is that?" "He is a Frenchman," said Dr. Dean, suavely. "Therefore that his ideas should be French ought not to be a matter of surprise to us, my dear Sir Chetwynd." Sir Chetwynd snorted.

"A very serious affair, for, indeed, I am afraid that my dearest friend has been murdered." "Will you kindly give me the particulars?" the officer said, sitting down to the table with a pen in his hand. Dick Chetwynd told him the story of how Mr.

Now, every man is flattered and gratified that his merits should be recognised, and Chetwynd was no exception to the general rule, but there were a good many bitters mingled with the sweets, and the hidden thorn among the rose-leaves had a nasty trick of obtruding itself.

There is a lack of principle a want of rectitude in er the French Press, for example, that is highly deplorable." "And is the English Press immaculate?" asked Denzil languidly. "We hope so," replied Sir Chetwynd. "We do our best to make it so." And with that remark he took his paunch and himself away into retirement, leaving Dr.