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Updated: June 18, 2025
She might have passed for Asher's sister, for she had a certain erect bearing and strong resemblance of feature. All single women were called old maids at twenty-five in those days. Else this fair-faced woman, with clear gray eyes and pink cheeks, and scarce a hint of white in her abundant brown hair, would not have been considered in the then ridiculed class.
Her voice, she felt, must have revealed her past life to the nuns, her voice must have shocked them a little; her voice must have brought the world before them too vividly. For all her life was in her voice, she would never be able to sing this hymn with the same sexless grace as they did. Her voice would be always Evelyn Innes Owen Asher's mistress.
Left alone, Leigh Shirley opened the big envelope holding the will of Francis Aydelot and read in it the stern decree that no child of Virginia Thaine should inherit the Aydelot estate in Ohio. "That's why Miss Jane couldn't leave it to Asher's son," she murmured. Then she read the will of the late Jane Aydelot.
It is bound up with some of Maimonides' works, several Midrashic tracts, a commentary on the Hagadah by Joseph Gikatilia, and an extract from Abarbanel's commentary on Isaiah; it forms part of the Almanzi collection, which curiously enough was purchased by the British Museum from Asher & Co. in October, 1865, some twenty years after Asher's death.
The walls of this one were nearly two feet thick and smoothly plastered inside with a gypsum product, giving an ivory-yellow finish, smooth and hard as bone. There was no floor but the bare earth into which a nail could scarcely have been driven. The furniture was meager and plain. There was only one picture on the wall, the sweet face of Asher's mother.
We went to the war together to fight you obstreperous Rebels." There was a twinkle in Asher's eyes now. "Yes, but in the end who really won?" Virginia asked demurely. "You did, of course in my case. Jim went back to Cloverdale for awhile. Then he came out here. He's a fine fellow. Plants a few more seeds by the wayside than is good for him, maybe, but a friend to the last rollcall.
He remembered to have heard her say something about a costly set at a certain Asher's, that Harding had found. He studied them for a few moments, his mouth tightening. Then, instead of going upstairs, he went into his study, and sat down to his table to write a letter.
But I had to tell her these unpleasant things, for I could not take her away in Owen Asher's yacht, her age and the circumstances forbade an agreeable episode among the Greek Islands. She is charming.... Poor Lucy! She slipped down on the floor very prettily and her hair fell on my knees.
Serves her right, for Asher's pile went into the dump, although there's naturally no love lost between the two. But this Miss Jane is Aydelot clear through. She's so honest and darned set you can't budge her. But she's a timid woman and so she's safe if you keep out of her range. She won't chase you far, but she's got fourteen rattles and a button."
"Asher's my name. B. Henderson Asher. I write 'Moments of Mirth." A look almost of excitement came into Smith's face, such a look as a visitor to a foreign land might wear when confronted with some great national monument. He stood up and shook Mr. Asher reverently by the hand. "Gentlemen," he said, reseating himself, "this is a painful case.
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