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Musselwhite approached, she looked up with an air of absorption. He was wont to begin conversation with the remark, flatteringly toned, "Reading Italian as usual, Miss Denyer?" but this evening a new subject had been suggested to him. "I hope Miss Doran is not seriously unwell, Miss Denyer?" "Oh, I think not." Mr. Musselwhite reflected, stroking his whiskers in a gentlemanly way.
That was not in his nature. At the usual hour she had luncheon. Shortly after, when her patience was yielding to fears fears which, in truth, she had only masked with the show of explanation a letter was brought in. But nothing to the purpose. It came from Zillah Denyer, who began with apologies for writing, and expressed uncertainty whether Mrs.
Denyer he was once more on terms of apparent friendliness, though he held no private dialogue with her; he was willing that she should suppose him gradually coming over to her views. Barbara and Zillah showed constraint when he spoke with them, but this he affected not to perceive. Only with Madeline he did not converse.
She spent half of every year at the family seat in Scotland, was a miracle of goodness to the poor of her parish, and taught her boy his alphabet. Lord Denyer came forward while his wife and Lady Maulevrier were shaking hands, and greeted her with more than his usual cordiality. Colonel Madison watched for the privilege of a recognising nod from the divinity.
"She has recently married Mr. Musselwhite, who was also one of our old acquaintances. Mrs. Travis the lady who tells me all this says that Mrs. Denyer is overjoyed at this marriage, for Mr. Musselwhite is the brother of a baronet!" "Very satisfactory indeed. Well, now for Mr. Marsh. Edward heard from Mr. Bradshaw when we were in Sicily, and this young gentleman had a great part in the letter.
He looked at her with gentlemanly sympathy. "I have had to see to a lot of things in a hurry. Unexpectedly, we have to leave Naples to-morrow; we are going to England." "Indeed? You don't say so! Really, I'm very sorry to hear that, Miss Denyer." "I am sorry too to have to leave Italy for such a climate at this time of the year." She shuddered.
Bradshaw's displeasure, in that she, an unmarried person, had actually looked over the volume together with its possessor, not so much as blushing when she found herself observed by strangers. The remaining persons were an English family, a mother and three daughters, their name Denyer. Mrs. Denyer was florid, vivacious, and of a certain size.
"I'm very sorry, my girl." "All I can say is," exclaimed Mrs. Denyer, as if with dignified reticence, "that I think we should have had longer warning of this!" "My dear, I have warned you repeatedly for nearly a year." "I mean serious warning. Who was to imagine that things would come to such a pass as this?"
Denyer paid a flying visit to London, and had just time to make the acquaintance of his prospective son-in-law. This afternoon they walked together for an hour about the Chiaia, with the result that an understanding of some kind seemed to be arrived at between them. Mr.
Marsh hesitated; then, throwing his head back, remarked in an unapproachable manner: "Mrs. Denyer, you will not forget that I am an artist." "I don't forget that you profess to be one, Mr. Marsh." This was retort with a vengeance. Clifford reddened slightly, and looked angry. Mrs.
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