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Updated: May 26, 2025
In the evening, while she was at tea with Lady Margaret and Miss Bennet, she was suddenly called out to speak to a young woman; and found, to her great surprise, she was no other than Henrietta.
"Going to do what on Christmas?" she exclaimed. "You ain't to do a thing on Christmas. Or ain't you grown up, after all?" "Well, we thought a Christmas funeral wouldn't hurt," interposed Bennet, defensively. "Can't we even have a funeral for fun on Christmas?" he ended, aggrieved. "It's Sandy Claus's funeral," observed little Emily putting a curl from her face.
Bennet began the projected conversation: "Oh! Mr. Collins!" "My dear madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point. Far be it from me," he presently continued, in a voice that marked his displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter.
As she went down the street she could see Jim's profile beside the parlor window, and she smiled her sarcastic smile, which was not altogether unpleasant. "He's stopped smoking, and he ain't reading," she told herself. "It won't be very long before he's Jim Bennet again." But it was longer than she anticipated, for Jim's will was propped by Edward Hayward's.
The writer was Mrs. Bennet Frothingham. 'We have only just heard, from Mrs. Carnaby, that you are back in town. Could you spare us tomorrow evening? It would be so nice of you. The quartet will give Beethoven's F minor, and Alma says it will be well done the conceit of the child! We hope to have some interesting people What a shocking affair of poor Mrs. Carnaby's!
He told all, with no extenuation; nay, rather with such outbursts of opprobrium on himself, that Dr. Bennet could hardly understand of what positive evils he had been guilty; and he ended by entreating that the almoner would at once hear his vow to become a Benedictine monk, ere But Dr. Bennet would not listen.
She was a spanker! She was the handsomest gal, I think, ever I saw. For the mother's a fine woman, and what with the mother, and what with old Mel 'We won't enter into the mysteries of origin, quoth Lady Jocelyn. 'Exactly, my lady. Oh, your servant, of course. Before ladies. A Burley Bennet, I said. Long and short was, he wanted to take her up to London. Says old Mel: "London 's a sad place."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. "Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
Yes, Bennet's his name. "And mighty lucky thing I have you back here," he added over his shoulder. "Good morning, Mr. Bennet," he said. "Caught us at breakfast again." "Breakfast! What are you doing at breakfast this time of day?" inquired the K. & Z. man, entering. When the cowman explained, the newcomer glowered at Alex threateningly. "Why didn't you shoot?" he demanded. "Too near the train.
"Mr. Bennet was now, by my desire as well as his own, determined to quit the parish; but when he attempted to get an exchange, he found it a matter of more difficulty than he had apprehended; for the rector's temper was so well known among the neighbouring clergy, that none of them could be brought to think of spending three months in a year with him. "After many fruitless enquiries, Mr.
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