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Updated: June 15, 2025
"We shall be married in Basil's own church. I can hardly eat or sleep for thinking of the joy and the triumph of it! There will be women there ready to eat their hearts with envy I believe indeed, Ethel, that every woman in the church is in love with Basil." "You have said that before, and I am sure you are wrong.
'You have not heard perhaps that her husband is dead? 'The Prefect dead? exclaimed Basil. 'Three weeks ago. Rather suddenly after supper. An indigestion, no doubt. Marcian spoke with peculiar dryness, averting his eyes from the listener. Upon Basil's face came a deep flush; he took out the folded paper again, and held it at arm's length. 'You mean ? You think ? he stammered.
Imogen controlled every least sign of exasperation; it was the easier, since she had gained something from this snatched interview. Her mother had in no way harmed her in Sir Basil's eyes, and this avowal of friendship might include an abdication of nearer claims. And so she walked back beside him telling him that her cones were for her little cripples.
That you should be so sure of an opinion, a mere opinion, when it hurts someone else, so abominably; it's there I don't seem to see you, you know." "Can't you trust me?" Valerie asked. It was her last chance, her last throw of the dice. She knew that her heart was suffocating her, with its heavy throbbing, but to Sir Basil's ear her voice was still the deadened, the unchanged voice.
As he listened, Basil's eyes filled with tears, and when bidden to rise he felt as one who has thrown off a burden; rejoicing in his recovered strength of body and soul, he gazed into that venerable face with gratitude too great for words. 'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth. It was with a parent's tenderness that Benedict now spoke.
Leonard had swallowed with surprising ease all that she had said in blame of Basil's conduct during the rupture, and exacted a promise from her friend that she should pay her the first visit after their marriage.
Basil's gave a picnic tea, when members of surrounding denominations met tranquilly on common ground and neutral territory. Macaulay's description of the peculiar position of the Church of England is nowhere truer than in some isolated districts like these Lower Canadian hamlets.
She wore a cheap, ready-made blouse, with absurd little bows tacked on down the front, which Ethel longed to abolish with one sweep, and her skirt, which had shrunk considerably in front, sagged in a dejected fashion behind. Yet to Basil's kindly eyes, there was something behind it all that was attractive. Fore one thing, she was so eminently sincere.
This was the beginning of a series of events all more or less qualified to bring about unspeakable misery in Basil's home. But there is nothing in life like the marriage tie. The tugs it will bear and not break, the wrongs it will look over, the chronic misunderstandings it will forgive, make it one of the mysteries of humanity.
But they are saints all the same; they are angels; they are robed in white; they are clad with wings and haloes at any rate compared to that man." "Which man?" I cried again, and then my eye caught the figure at which Basil's bull's eyes were glaring.
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