Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 15, 2025
I was rather hoping you would be a feature of my Sunday afternoons." "I'm not a society man," said John. "I've no aptitude myself for patronizing or toadying, and I don't particularly enjoy being patronized or toadied to." "Is that the beginning and end of social life in England?" Lady Blanchemain inquired, delicately sarcastic. "As I have seen it, yes," asseverated John.
I've heard, too, that there are such things as tufted fortune-hunters, but theirs is a career that requires a special vocation, and I'm afraid I haven't got it." "Then you're no true Marquis of Carabas," the lady took him smartly up. "You've found me out I'm only a faux-marquis," he laughed. "Thrrr!" breathed Lady Blanchemain, and for a little while appeared lost in thought.
And then her lilac frock! Oh, it's a thousand, thousand pities that painting should he a forgotten art." "What, the same lilac frock?" said Lady Blanchemain, absently. "Yet you certainly have the Eton voice," she mused. "And if I don't pay you the doubtful compliment of saying that you have the Balliol manner, you have at least a kind of subtilized reminiscence of it."
"I must keep a guard upon myself," said John. "She's visiting an Austrian woman who lives in a remote wing of the castle, the pavilion beyond the clock, in fact, an Austrian woman of the exhilarating name of Brandi." "I'm rather in luck for my dinner to-night," said Lady Blanchemain. "I've got Agnes Scope, the niece of the Duke of Wexmouth. She arrived here this morning with her aunt, Lady Louisa.
She considered for a moment, and then reverted to the previous question. "So you did not know that my vivid young friend's name was Blanchemain?" "No," said Maria Dolores. "It is a good name there's none better in England," averred the old lady, with a nod of emphasis that set the wheat-ears in her bonnet quivering. "Oh ?" said Maria Dolores, looking politely interested.
Meanwhile he plainly knew a tremendous lot about Italian art. Lady Blanchemain herself knew a good deal, and could recognize a pundit. He illumined their progress by a running fire of exposition and commentary, learned and discerning, to which she encouragingly listened, and, as occasion required, amiably responded.
An English peer is marriageable. So here's adieu to my cottage in the air." "Here's good riddance to it," said Frau Brandt. That evening, at the hour of sunset, Maria Dolores met John in the garden. "You had a visitor this afternoon," she announced. "A most inspiritingly young old lady, as soft and white as a powder-puff, in a carriage that was like a coach-and-four. Lady Blanchemain.
"A private detective, a female detective, whom, the next time you come to Sant' Alessina, I'll introduce to you," said John. "What on earth do you mean?" said Lady Blanchemain. "The most amusing, the most adorable little detective unhung," said he. "People are all love and laughter whenever they look at her. She'll worm its inmost secrets from my sphinx's heart."
"Ah," she said, on a tone judiciously compounded of feminine artlessness and of forthright British candour, and with a play of the eyebrows that attributed her momentary suscitation to the workings of memory, "of course Blanchemain. The Sussex Blanchemains. I expect there's only one family of the name?" "I've never heard of another," assented the young man.
"I don't know," John reflected, vistas opening before him. "It might be rather a lark." "Whrrr!" said Lady Blanchemain, fanning herself with her pocket-handkerchief. Then she eyed him suspiciously. "You're hiding the nine million other causes up your sleeve.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking