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Updated: September 26, 2025
He dwelt upon some of the changes Miss Blanchflower would find on the estate; how the old head-keeper, who used to make a pet of her, was dead, and the new agent her father had put in was thought to be doing well, how the village had lost markedly in population in the last few years this emigration to Canada was really getting beyond a joke! and so forth. Miss Marvell made no replies.
And with the curtest of bows she disappeared. "I have brought you a book, Miss Blanchflower," Lathrop nervously began, diving into a large and sagging pocket. "You said you wanted to see Madame de Noailles' second volume." He brought out "Les Eblouissements," and laid it on the table beside her. Delia thanked him, and then, all in a moment, as she stood beside him, a thought struck her.
"Miss Blanchflower you may be quite sure will be as ready as anyone else to make sacrifices for the cause. But we don't expect you to understand that!" "Nobody can doubt your zeal, Lady Fanny." "Only my discretion? Oh, I've long left that to take care of itself. What are you here for?" "To look after my ward." Lady Fanny eyed him again. "Of course! I had forgotten. Well, she'll be all right."
But I am Miss Blanchflower, who came here before Christmas, with Mr. Winnington, and I should have been glad to see Mr. Daunt and the children. Lily! don't you remember me?" and she smiled at the crippled child a delicate blue-eyed creature whom she saw in the background. But the child, who seemed to have been crying violently, did not come forward.
Mayn't I come and help with some of your cripple children? or the school? or something? If Susy Amberly can do it, I suppose I can I'd like to. May I sign myself though I am a handful-" "Yours affectionately, DELIA BLANCHFLOWER." She sat staring at the paper, trembling under a stress of feeling she could not understand the large tears in her eyes.
"A man's foes shall be they of his own household." "It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault!" No! and moreover it was her duty not to waste her strength in vain emotion and regret. Her task was doing, not dreaming. She turned away, banished her thoughts and set steadily about the task of dressing. "Please Miss Blanchflower, there are two or three people waiting to see you in the servants' hall."
The Greeks were not at that moment of much account in the political world, and Lady Blanchflower thought of them as a nation of shams, trading on a great past which did not belong to them. Her secret idea was that out of their own country they grew rich in disreputable ways, and while at home, where only the stupid ones stayed, they were a shabby, half-civilised people, mostly bankrupt.
What he did with the youth, and how he did it, he cannot exactly remember, but at least he doesn't forget the grip of Blanchflower's hand, and the look of deliverance in his strained, hollow face. Nor had Mrs. Blanchflower borne her rescuer any grudge. He had parted from her on the best of terms, and the recollection of her astonishing beauty grows strong in him as he thinks of her.
And now the modest worshipper must see her hero absorbed day by day, and hour by hour, in the doings of a dazzling and magnificent creature like Delia Blanchflower. What food for torment, even in the meekest spirit! So that the last word the vivacious woman said to herself was a soft "Poor Susy!" dropped into the heart of a September rose as she stooped to gather it.
But in everyone's mind the same thought emerged. At any moment the door might open, and Delia Blanchflower and her chaperon might come in. The doctor drew Winnington aside into a bow-window. "Did you know that the lady living with Miss Blanchflower was a member of this League of Revolt?" "Yes. You mean they are implicated in these things?" "Certainly!
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