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Updated: June 1, 2025
For during one week she had sold stamps to a real live Marquis and post-cards to a 'Right Honourable, besides despatching numerous telegrams for the Countess of Beaulyon. By all the gods and little fishes, Sir Morton Pippitt had sunk low indeed! for when Mrs.
"Does it matter?" and Maryllia smiled "If one's conscience is clear, need one care what people say?" "Conscience!" exclaimed Lady Beaulyon "What an old-fashioned expression! Surely it's better to do something people can lay hold of and talk about, than have them invent something you have never done!
The windows of this apartment were set open, and a charming garden vista of lawn and terraee and rose-walk opened out before the eyes. "Now for Bridge!" said Lady Beaulyon "I'm simply dying for a game!" "So am I!" declared Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay "Lord Charlemont, you'll play?" "Charmed, I'm sure!" was the ready response. "Where shall we put the card tables? Near the window?
She declares she will never speak to either of us again after we've gone away to- morrow. Of course we can easily reverse the position and turn the tables upon her by saying we will not speak to her again. That will be easy enough for I believe she's after the parson." Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay's eyes lightened with malignity. "What, that man who objected to our smoke?" Lady Beaulyon nodded.
"Not Bridge," replied Maryllia, in her clear soft voice "I do not allow it." Fresh glances of wonderment were exchanged. The men hummed and hawed and turned themselves about on their heels the women simply stared. Lady Beaulyon burst out laughing. "Ridiculous!" she exclaimed, then flushed, and bit her lip, knowing that such an ejaculation was scarcely civil to her hostess.
The principal impression they appeared to have on their minds was one of vague amusement. "So against his own interests too," said Lady Beaulyon, carelessly- "Because where would all the parsons be if they offended their patrons?" Mr. Bludlip Courtenay, a thin gentleman with a monocle assented to this proposition with a "Where indeed!"
Next to Lord Charlemont sat Lady Beaulyon, and next to Lady Beaulyon John Walden was placed with the partner allotted to him, Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay. On Roxmouth's own side there were Lady Wicketts and Sir Morton Pippitt, so it chanced that the table was arranged in a manner that brought certain parties who were by no means likely to agree on any one given point, directly opposite to each other.
"You have seen Lady Beaulyon, haven't you?" He bent his head in the affirmative "Isn't she lovely?" "Not to me," he replied, quietly "But then I'm no judge." She looked at him in surprise. "She is considered the most beautiful woman in England!" "By whom?", he enquired; "By the society paragraphists who are paid for their compliments?" Maryllia laughed.
"Rather!" said Lord Charlemont, nodding approval "I'd like to get you for a partner!" "I AM considered lucky," smiled Mrs. Courtenay, with an air of virtuous pride "I always win SOMETHING!" "Well, let's begin at once, we'll play all the afternoon." said Lady Beaulyon. "Where are the tables?" "AND the cards?" "Ask Maryllia "
As for 'living good, I am not trying that way. I only want to understand myself, and find out my own possibilities and limitations. And if I never do win the love I want, if no one ever cares for me at all, then I shall be perfectly content to live and die unmarried." "What a fate!" laughed Lady Beaulyon, shrugging her white shoulders.
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