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She had decided that Conny was "a bad influence" on the Southerner; that Cairy was simple and ingenuous, "really a nice boy," so she told her husband. Just what evil Conny had done to Cairy Isabelle could not say, ending always with the phrase, "but I don't trust her," or "she is so selfish."
The worthy gardener was certainly the skeleton, or cormorant, so to speak, of the banquet, eating them almost out of house and home, it must be mentioned in all due confidence; and, taking watch of his depravity of behaviour in this respect, the thoughtful Conny registered an inward determination never to invite Joe to another of their al fresco feasts, if she could possibly avoid doing so without seriously wounding his sensibilities.
He will tell you all about it some time, how his negro nurse was frightened by a snake and dropped him on a stone step when he was a baby." "We don't have men like him in St. Louis," Isabelle reflected aloud; "men who write or do things that are really interesting it is all business or gossip. I should like to see Conny, it must be exciting to live in New York, and be somebody!"
"Nothing wrong, papa dear, that I know of," replied Conny in her formal deliberative sort of way; "but, I'm afraid he has gone off with those village boys again, for he's nowhere about the place." "Dear me!" ejaculated the vicar, shoving up his spectacles over his forehead and poking his hair into an erect position like a cockatoo's crest, as he always did when fidgety.
'You have been a dear good girl, Conny, and a great pleasure and comfort to us both. 'Oh, auntie, I have not done anything, Mrs. Bury has done it all. 'Mrs. Bury is most kind, unspeakably kind, but, my dear dear girl, your companionship has been so much to your dear uncle that I have been most thankful to you.
She had gone there to look after Conny, suborned by Mrs. Maxwell, and laid up with a sore throat, and forlorn and wretched if one of her sisters was not looking after her. This intercourse could scarcely fail to have one grand climax.
Margaret asked. "The man is a stockbroker. She is turning her talents to a new field, money. I hear the wedding was very smart, and they are to live on Long Island, with a yacht and half a dozen motors." "I thought she would marry differently," Isabelle observed vaguely, recalling the last time she had seen Conny. "No! Conny knows her world perfectly, that's her strength.
Probably she gets less of Larry out here, that may compensate!" "As for the children," Conny pronounced with lazy dogmatism, "I don't believe in fussing. Children must camp where it's best for the parents. They can get fresh air in the Park."
"He was very grateful to Senator Flynn, who appreciates his talents, but who offered it to him as a mere question of fitness," replied Mrs. Ashwood with great precision of statement. "But you don't seem to know he declined it on account of his other work." "Preferred his old Bohemian ways, eh? You can't change those fellows, Conny. They can't get over the fascinations of vagabondage.
In response to which Isabelle mischievously remarked: "So you and Conny really have had a tiff? I must get her to tell me about it." "Do you think she would tell you the truth?" "No." Isabelle, in spite of Cairy's protestations about his work, was gratified with her discovery, as she called it.
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