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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Why did you ask that horrid woman?" "We didn't! Alice indiscreetly mentioned that Miss Blanchflower was coming to tea, and she asked herself." "She's enough to make any one militant! If I hear her quote 'the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world' once more, I shall have to smite her. The girl's down-trodden I tell you! Well, well if you gossip too little, I gossip too much.
Miss Toogood's father had been a bookseller evidently a reading bookseller in Winchester, and in the deformed and twisted form of his daughter some of his soul, his affections and interests, survived. "Yes, but what are you going to give us to do, Miss Blanchflower?" said Kitty Foster, impatiently "I don't care what I do! And the more it makes the men mad, the better!"
She said Miss Blanchflower was awfully clever, but as wild as a hawk mad about women's rights and that kind of thing. In the hotel where she met them, people fought very shy of her." "Oh, she's a militant suffragist," said the solicitor quietly "though she's not had time yet since her father's death to do any mischief. That in confidence is the meaning of the will." The adjutant whistled.
Winnington rose, and began to pace the drawing room. Delia watched him quivering an exquisite vision herself, in the half lights of the room. When he paused at last to speak, she saw a new expression in his eyes. "I shall have to think this over, Miss Blanchflower perhaps to reconsider my whole position." She was startled, but she kept her composure.
"The police were rough too!" cried Miss Jackson. "But you couldn't wonder at it, Miss Blanchflower, could you?" Delia looked into the speaker's frank, troubled face. "You and I felt the same," she said in a choked voice. "It was ugly and it was absurd." She walked back with them a little way, comforting them, as best she could. And her sympathy, her sweetness did strangely comfort them.
Delia Blanchflower looked keenly at the English scene, so strange to her after many years of Colonial and foreign wandering. She thought, but did not say "Those must be my fields and my woods, that we have just passed through. Probably I rode about them with Grandpapa. I remember the pony and the horrid groom I hated!"
With a grim little smile, she stretched out a hand and touched Kitty Foster's arm. "Yes, isn't it splendid!" said Delia, ardently. Kitty flushed and bridled. Her people in the farmhouse at home thought her hair ugly, and frankly told her so. It was nice to be admired by Miss Blanchflower and her friend.
"I used to come here with my grandmother, Lady Blanchflower. I have been intending to come and pay you a visit for a long time to have a look at the old house again. And just now I was passing the foot of your hill in a motor; something went wrong with the car, and while they were mending it, I ran up. But it's getting dark so quick, one can hardly see anything!"
He had been eager to speak and write for it, had persuaded himself that he really cared. But now candour and he was generally candid with himself made him confess that but for Delia Blanchflower he would already have cut his connection with the whole thing. He thought with a mixture of irony and discomfort of his "high-falutin" letter to her.
Her mother trusted her greatly, and Desborough was too simple to have any afterthought when he found that his morning visits were discouraged. He was grateful for every moment of her company, and he placidly looked forward to the time when his quiet life should be crowned. Sometimes he chatted quite contentedly with Mrs. Blanchflower until Marion returned.
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