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Updated: June 5, 2025
Bazalgette leaning with one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished forehead; her grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the uttermost. So Newton looked, solving Nature. Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching sight of so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity.
His task-mistress looked on, and, under the pretense of minute inspection, brought a face that was still arch and pretty unnecessarily close to the marine milliner, in which attitude they were surprised by Mr. Bazalgette, who, having come in through the open folding-doors, stood looking mighty sardonic at them both before they were even aware he was in the room.
He must recover young Arthur's reverence, which was doubtless dissolving all this time. "Now, Arthur," he whispered, "take a lesson from a gentleman of the old school. I hate this she-devil; but this is at my house, so observe." He then strutted jauntily and feebly up to Mrs. Bazalgette: "Madam, my niece says you are her guest; but permit me to dispute her title to that honor." Mrs.
Bazalgette is your man. I had no idea your mousseline-delame would have washed so well. Why, it looks just out of the shop; it " Come away, reader, for Heaven's sake! THE man whom Mr. Bazalgette introduced so smoothly and off-hand to Lucy Fountain exercised a terrible influence over her life, as you will see by and by. This alone would make it proper to lay his antecedents before the reader.
But the fact is, men are no judges in such cases; they are always unjust to their own sex, and as blind to the faults of ours as beetles." "But surely, aunt, she is very arch and lively." "Pert and fussy, you mean." "Pretty, at all events? Rather?" "What, with that snub nose!!?" Lucy offered to invite other neighbors; Mrs. Bazalgette replied she didn't want to be bothered with rurality.
He dared not look at Lucy, nor did he speak to her more than was necessary for what they were doing, nor she to him. She was vexed with him for subjecting himself and her to unnecessary pain, and in the eye of society her divinity. Another unhappy one was Mr. Fountain. He sat disconsolate on a seat all alone. Mrs. Bazalgette fluttered about like a butterfly, and sparkled like a Chinese firework.
She little knew she had an auditor a female auditor, keen as a lynx. All this day Reginald George Bazalgette, Esq., might have been defined "a pest in search of a playmate." Tom had got a holiday. Lucy only came out of her workshop to be seized by Mr. Fountain. David, who was waiting in the garden for Lucy, begged Reginald to excuse him for once.
Having said this with a look at her aunt, that, Heaven knows how, gave the others the notion that it was to Mrs. Bazalgette she owed the solution of David's fit of sadness, she glided easily into indifferent topics. So then the others had a momentary feeling of pity for David. Miss Lucy noticed this out of the tail of her eye. That night David went to bed thoroughly wretched.
Oh yes! do come!" * Read the Oxford Essays. "Certainly not," said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply. "Excuse us, dear," said Lucy in the same breath. "Well, Lucy," said Mrs. Bazalgette, "am I wrong about your uncle's selfishness! I have tried in vain ever since I came here to make you see it where you were the only sufferer."
Bazalgette breakfasted in bed, during which process she rang her bell seven times. Lucy received at the breakfast-table a letter from her uncle. "MY DEAR NIECE The funeral was yesterday, and, I flatter myself, well performed: there were five-and-twenty carriages. After that a luncheon, in the right style, and then to the reading of the will.
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