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Early in September O'Neil was with Chichester at Slane, in Meath, when he received a letter from Maguire, who had been out of the country, conveying information on which he immediately acted.
She preferred to entertain her friends in the country than to live in town. She knew little of what gossip might run the streets of London; and since Luttrell was, as yet, like Sir Chichester, in that he was not a public character, there had been no wide-run gossip about Stella Croyle or himself which Millicent Splay was likely to meet.
He looked at Chichester and smiled. "You have no objection, I hope?" His words and manner evidently brought the curate to a sense of his own unconventionality. He held out his hand. "I beg your pardon. Your coming in surprised me. I had no idea" his blue eyes went searchingly over Malling's calm face "that you could be here.
"Want of moral strength," said Mailing, laconically. "You think so?" "Don't you?" At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mr. Harding started. "How impossible it is to get a quiet moment," he said with acute irritation. "Come in!" he called out. The footman appeared. "Mr. Chichester has called to see you, sir." The rector's manner changed.
It must indeed be confessed that when all is said and done, essentially romantic as the Cathedral of Chichester is with its so various styles of architecture, lovely as certain parts of it are still, it must always have been a building rather interesting than beautiful, and it has suffered so much from vandalism and restoration that it cannot be accounted a monument of the first order.
Brent here, Jarvis." As Jarvis went in search of Mr. Brent, Mrs. Chichester went up the great stairs: "My head is throbbing. I'll go to my room." "Don't you worry, mater," consoled Alaric. "Leave everything to me. I'll thrash the whole thing out absolutely thrash it out." As Mrs.
"You are en enthusiast," says Sir Maurice, who is standing near Mrs. Bethune. "My dear fellow, who wouldn't be, in such a cause?" says the young cavalryman, with a rather conscious laugh. "Here she is," says Mrs. Chichester, who is one of those people whom Nature has supplied with eyes behind and before.
Mould yourself on her." "Imitate her, is it?" asked Peg innocently with a twinkle in her eye and the suggestion of impishness in her manner. "So far as lies in your power," replied Mrs. Chichester. A picture of Ethel struggling in Brent's arms suddenly flashed across Peg, and before she could restrain herself she had said in exact imitation of her cousin: "Please don't! It is so hot this morning!"
They come to Chichester Square regularly for their holidays it is their 'new home, as it is mine. But we have another home and it is not much of the holidays except the Christmas ones that we grandmamma and we three spend in London.
Unless I see my name in real print every morning, I have all day the uncomfortable sensation that I am not properly dressed." Millie Splay and the others round the table, with the exception of one person, laughed. To that one person, Sir Chichester here turned good-humouredly: "All right, you can turn your nose up, Joan. It seems extraordinary to you that I should like to see my name in print.
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