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Updated: June 9, 2025
Then I could teach her to ride. Bartie won't let her learn here, though Ferdie'd gone and bought a pony for her. That was to spite Ferdie. He's worse than ever, if you can imagine that, and he's got three more things the matter with him. I must stop now. Love to Dad and Don and Nanna. Next year I'm to go into physics and stinks that's chemistry. Your loving NICKY.
"That's it. Supposing we separated." "Good Heavens, you're not contemplating that, are you?" "I'm not contemplating anything. But Bartie isn't very easy to live with, is he?" "No, he's not. He never was. All the same " Bartie was impossible. Between the diseases he had and thought he hadn't and the diseases he hadn't and thought he had, he made life miserable for himself and other people.
"Is it," said Dorothy one morning, "that Ronny doesn't look as if she was Uncle Bartie's daughter, or that Uncle Bartie looks as if he wasn't Ronny's father?" However suddenly and wantonly an idea struck Dorothy, she brought it out as if it had been the result of long and mature consideration. "Or is it," said Vera, "that I don't look as if I were Ronny's mother?"
For when suspicion became unendurable he had consulted Anthony who assured him that Frances, who ought to know, was convinced that there was nothing in it except incompatibility, for which Bartie was superlatively responsible. Anthony's manner did not encourage confidence, and he gathered that his own more sinister interpretation would be dismissed with contemptuous incredulity.
Anthony was under his wife's thumb and Frances had been completely bamboozled by her dearest friend. Still, when once their eyes were opened, he reckoned on the support of Anthony and Frances. It was inconceivable, that, faced with a public scandal, his brother and his sister-in-law would side with Vera. It was a game where Bartie apparently held all the cards. And his trump card was Veronica.
Dorothy rode my bike stridelegs coming back, so that I could sit in the dog-cart. She said she'd get a jolly wigging if she was seen. We shan't know till Monday. You know, Mummy, that kid Ronny's having a rotten time, what with Bartie being such a beast and Vera chumming up with Ferdie and going off to country houses where he is. I really think she'd better come to us for the holidays.
Twelve years after their marriage Veronica was born at Simla, and the coming and going ceased for three years. Then Bartie sent them both home. That time Vera had refused to travel farther westward than Marseilles. She was afraid of damp and cold, and she had got the ship's doctor to order her to the Riviera. She and Veronica had been living for two years in a small villa at Agaye.
He says he can stick it till then, but not a day longer. Poor Mick! He has the most mysterious troubles. I daresay it's the Cheltenham climate as much as anything. It doesn't suit me or Bonny either, and it's simply killing Ferdie by inches. I suppose that's why Bartie makes us stay here in the hope Oh! my dear, I'm worried out of my life about him.
She knew that Anthony would take her on his knee, and that she could sit there with her head tucked under his chin, smiling at him, prolonging her caresses, till Vera told him to put her down and let her go. Bartie growled: "Did you hear your mother telling you to say Good-night?" "Yes. But I must kiss Uncle Anthony first. Properly. Once on his mouth. Once on his nose. And once on his eyes.
Even when the Government cut down their profits; even when they had given more than half they made to the War funds, the fact remained that they were living on the War. Bartie, without a wife or children, was appallingly rich. If John were taken. If John were killed If Michael died Michael had been reported seriously wounded. He had thought then of Michael.
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