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Updated: May 2, 2025
"No woman's beauty lasts more than a few years," said Roxmouth, as he glanced at the various guests who had entered or were entering. "Lady Beaulyon wears well but she is forty years old, and begins to show it. Margaret Bludlip Courtenay must be fifty, and she doesn't show it she manages her Paris cosmetics wonderfully. Some of these county ladies would be better for a little touch of her art!
Bludlip Courtenay, as that gentleman, driving his car himself, and staring indifferently through his monocle, had 'timed' his rush through the village to a minute and a half, on a bet with Lord Charlemont, and 'gashed and jambled' was the only description to apply to the innocent little animal as it lay dead in the dust.
The principal impression they appeared to have on their minds was one of vague amusement. "So against his own interests too," said Lady Beaulyon, carelessly- "Because where would all the parsons be if they offended their patrons?" Mr. Bludlip Courtenay, a thin gentleman with a monocle assented to this proposition with a "Where indeed!"
Bludlip Courtenay just then re-entered the drawing-room from the garden, fanning herself vigorously with her handkerchief. "It is so frightfully warm!" she complained "Such a burning sun! So bad for the skin! They are picking strawberries and eating them off the plants very nice, I daresay but quite messy. Eva Beaulyon and two of the men have taken a boat and gone on the water.
He considered that clergymen should not forget themselves, they should show proper respect towards those on whom they depended for support. "Mr. Walden depends on God for support, I believe," said Cicely Bourne suddenly. Mr. Bludlip Courtenay fixed his monocle firmly in his left eye and stared at her. "Really!" he drawled dubiously "You surprise me!"
She declares she will never speak to either of us again after we've gone away to- morrow. Of course we can easily reverse the position and turn the tables upon her by saying we will not speak to her again. That will be easy enough for I believe she's after the parson." Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay's eyes lightened with malignity. "What, that man who objected to our smoke?" Lady Beaulyon nodded.
Bludlip Courtenay tell me that the man Walden is quite an objectionable person positively boorish! It's dreadful really! But who could ever have imagined she would recover from that hunting spill? Wentworth Glynn said she was crippled for life. He told me so himself." "Well, he was wrong evidently," said Roxmouth, curtly. "English surgeons are very clever, but they are not always infallible.
And she addressed herself to Adderley who happened to be standing near her. He made one of his fantastic salutes. "Not I, madam! I am merely a writer, one who makes rhymes and verses " Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay waved him away with a hand on which at least five diamond rings sparkled gorgeously. "Oh dear! Don't come near me!" she said, with a little affected laugh "I simply HATE poetry!
If Maryllia would only marry Lord Roxmouth, all these flighty and fantastic notions of hers about music and faithful friends and honour and principle would disappear. I am sure they would! and she would calm down and be just like one of us." Mr. Bludlip Courtenay stared hard through his monocle.
"He has gone the pace!" murmured Mr. Bludlip Courtenay thoughtfully, dropping his monocle out of his eye and hastily putting it back, as though he feared his eye itself might escape from its socket unless thus fenced in "But then, after all wild oats! Once sown and reaped, they seldom spring again after marriage."
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