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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Dear me, what odd things you do say!" and Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay shook out her skirts and glanced over her shoulder at her own reflection in a convenient mirror "You seem to be quite impossible at times " "Yes, Aunt Emily always said so!" interposed Maryllia, quietly.
Bludlip Courtenay was carefully taking off her artistically woven 'real hair' eyebrows and putting them by in a box for the night, Lady Beaulyon, arrayed in a marvellous 'deshabille' of lace and pale blue satin, which would have been called by the up-to-date modiste 'a dream of cerulean sweetness, came into her room with dejection visibly written on her photographically valuable features.
In these scientific days too!" "Ah science, science!" sighed Mr. Bludlip Courtenay, dropping his monocle with a sharp click against his top waistcoat button "Where will it end?" Nobody volunteered a reply to this profound proposition. "'Souls' are noted for something else than being saved for heaven nowadays, aren't they, Lady Beaulyon?" queried Lord Charlemont, with a knowing smile.
Bludlip Courtenay "I can imagine nothing more tiresome than to be a Soul without a Body, climbing from height to height of a heaven where there is no night, no sleep, no rest for ever and ever. Simply dreadful! But there! one only goes to church for form's sake just as an example to one's servants and when it's done, don't you think it's best to forget it as soon as possible?"
Bludlip Courtenay, in the privacy of her own apartment, confided to her husband that she really thought Maryllia Vancourt was a little 'off her head' just a little. "Because, really," said Mrs. Courtenay "when it comes to harbouring geniuses in one's own house, it is quite beyond all reason. I sympathise so much with poor Mrs. Fred!
Lord Charlemont and Mr. Bludlip Courtenay had brought their newest up-to-date motor-cars with them, terrible objects to the villagers whenever they dashed, like escaped waggons off an express train, through the little street, with their horns blowing violently as though in a fog at sea. Mrs.
The minister of St. Rest was really quite objectionable, a ranter, a noisy, 'stagey' creature! and both she and Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay murmured to each other that they 'did not like him. "So loud!" said Lady Beaulyon, breathing the words delicately against her friend's Titian-red hair. "So provincial!" rejoined Mrs.
Bludlip Courtenay, in the same dulcet undertone, adding to her remark the fervent "Lord have mercy upon us and incline our hearts to keep this law!" One very gratifying circumstance to these ladies, however, and one that considerably astonished all the members of Miss Vancourt's house-party, as well as Miss Vancourt herself, was that no 'collection' was made.
Bludlip Courtenay, whose hand she recognised in the matter as having so earnestly begged her to go to Badsworth Hall that afternoon, she despised Sir Morton Pippitt for lending himself to the scheme, and with all her heart she loathed Mr. Marius Longford whom she at once saw was Roxmouth's paid tool.
Bludlip Courtenay and Lady Beaulyon took place, as to whether 'Maryllia Van' in her professed detestation of Lord Roxmouth, would forget etiquette and the rule of 'precedence' but they soon saw she did not intend to so commit herself. For when all her guests had passed in before her, she followed resignedly on the arm of the future Duke.
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