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There the letter ended, without the slightest allusion to the forthcoming newspaper, or to the opinion that had been pronounced on the prospects of success. In forwarding this letter, Mrs. Vimpany wrote on the blank page as follows: "I am sorry to add that some disquieting news of my husband has reached me. For the present, I will say no more.
Vimpany proceeded to the performance of his duty; his painful responsibility seemed to strike him at first from a medical point of view. "If there is a poison which undermines the sources of life," he remarked, "it is alcohol. If there is a vice that degrades humanity, it is intoxication. Mr. Mountjoy, are you aware that I am looking at you?" "Impossible not to be aware of that," Hugh answered.
Her familiar manner, with its vulgar assumption of equality in the presence of a stranger, revealed the London-bred maid-servant of modern times. "Did you say Mrs. Vimpany?" she inquired sharply. "Yes." "There's no such person here." It was Mountjoy's turn to be puzzled. "Is this Mr. Vimpany's house?" he said. "Yes, to be sure it is." "And yet Mrs. Vimpany doesn't live here?" "No Mrs.
They dispute about the medical treatment that's best for them, and the one thing they are never tired of doing is talking about their symptoms. It was an old man's gabble that kept me late to-day. However, the Squire, as they call him in these parts, is a patient with a long purse; I am obliged to submit." "A gentleman of the old school, dear Miss Henley," Mrs. Vimpany explained. "Immensely rich.
His wife lost her self-control. She was too furiously angry with him to be able to remain in the room. Recovering her composure when she was alone, she sent for soda-water and brandy. Her one chance of making him useful was to humour his vile temper; she waited on him herself. In some degree, the drink cleared his muddled head. Mrs. Vimpany tried his memory once more. Had he said this?
I want to try if I can follow that rogue through the streets, without his finding me out. Please to send me on an errand to Paris to-morrow." "You will be running a terrible risk," her mistress reminded her, "if Mr. Vimpany discovers you." "I'll take my chance of that," was the reckless reply. Iris consented. ON the next morning Lord Harry left the cottage, accompanied by the doctor.
It was no use keeping her here. The man was well, and she was anxious to get back to you. So she started on Wednesday morning, proposing to take the night boat from Dieppe. She must have stopped somewhere on the way." "I suppose she will go to see Mrs. Vimpany. I will send her a line there." "Certainly. That will be sure to find her." "Well, Harry, is there anything else to tell me?
Where is she, then?" "Had you waited in London for a day or two you would, I dare say, have been informed. As it is, you have had your journey for nothing." "Has she not been here?" "She has not been here." "Dr. Vimpany," said the woman, driven to desperation, "I don't believe you! I am certain she has been here. What have you done with her?" "Don't you believe me? That is sad, indeed.
"I gratefully appreciate your kind intentions," Iris had said, with her customary tenderness of regard for the feelings of others; "but I never wish to hear again of Mr. Vimpany, or of the strange suspicions which he seems to excite in your mind."
She now spoke with hesitation, almost with timidity, in addressing the woman whom she had so cleverly deceived, at the time when they first met. "Must I give up all, Miss Henley, that I most value?" she asked. "I hardly understand you, Mrs. Vimpany." "I will try to make it plainer. Do you really mean to leave me this evening?" "I do." "May I own that I am grieved to hear it?
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