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Updated: May 7, 2025
A man's society always does him good, and you know how few men there are in this country: we have only the vicar, and the doctor, and Jack Bendish and people who stay at the Castle. And if you only realized how different he was with you from what he is with most people, you would be flattered! He won't let any one touch him as a rule, except Barry, whom he treats like a machine.
She whipped up her black ponies and was gone. Lawrence was grateful to her for asking no questions, but he would rather have taken Isabel direct to Val. Romance in bud requires a delicate hand. Now Mrs. Jack Bendish had all the bourgeois virtues except modesty and discretion. The Wancote affair made a nine days' wonder in the Plain.
"Too late: quite. ..." Barry Briscoe had an understanding, sympathetic grip of one's last few words. So much of the conversation of others eludes one, but one should hold fast the last few words. "Oh played, Gerda: did you that time, Bendish...." Gerda had put on, probably by accident, a sudden, absurd twist that had made a fool of Rodney.
What was the trouble?" "Oh, something about the war." "No, my child, it wasn't about the war. It was something that stung up his vanity or his self-love. Lawrence isn't a sentimentalist like Jack or Val." Here Jack Bendish got as far as an artless "Oh, I say!" but his wife paid no attention. "Lawrence never took the war seriously." "But he did," insisted Isabel. "He coloured all over his face "
Isabel had been brought up all her life to talk politics. Mr. Stafford was a Christian Socialist, a creed which in her private opinion was nicely calculated to produce the maximum of human discomfort: and from a conversation between Hyde and Jack Bendish she had learnt that Hyde was all of her own view.
People who believe what I do, and wouldn't tie themselves up and lose their liberty for anything." "I agree with Lenin. He says liberty is a bourgeois dream." "Barry, I may keep my name, mayn't I? I may still be called Gerda Bendish, by people in general?" "Of course, if you like. Rather silly, isn't it? Because it won't be your name. But that's your concern."
Stafford: and perhaps a purist might have objected that Mrs. Clowes and Yvonne Bendish had not done all they might have done to form Isabel's manners. "I'm so sorry, darling," she continued, preparing to leap to her feet. "Shall I get you a biscuit? There are oatmeals in the sideboard, the kind you like, I won't be a minute " "Thanks very much, I'd rather wait. Did you see Mrs. Clowes today?
In her world, to be young and pretty gave a woman a claim on Fate to provide her with pretty dresses and the admiration of men. As for Yvonne, till she married Jack Bendish she had never been out of debt in her life. "No, it's the most natural thing on earth," said Laura. "How I wish !" "No, no," said Isabel hastily.
But he was changing: when he carried Isabel across the sunlit grass plot, her beautiful grave childish head lying warm on his shoulder, he had travelled far from the Hyde of the summer house at Bingley. "My word!" said Yvonne Bendish, startled out of her drawl. "Is it you, Isabel?" She reined in and sat gazing with all her eyes at the couple coming down the field path to Chilmark Bridge.
"Do you mean to say that I was sent for from the borders of Abyssinia because Bendish has a friend in London who wants my help?" The indifferent gentleman stroked his chin. "It certainly looks like it, doesn't it? But I do hope that you didn't cut your expedition short on that account." He looked remorsefully into Hillyard's face. "In any case, the rainy season was coming on, wasn't it?"
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