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Updated: May 27, 2025
Handsell came back almost immediately. Borrowdean, turning his head as she entered, found himself studying her with a new curiosity. Yes, she was a beautiful woman. She had lost nothing. Her complexion a little tanned, perhaps was as fresh and soft as a girl's, her smile as delightfully full of humour as ever. Not a speck of grey in her black hair, not a shadow of embarrassment. A wonderful woman!
Politics are nothing to you save a personal affair. You play the game of life in the first person singular. Let me pay his quittance." Borrowdean regarded her thoughtfully. "You are a strange woman," he said. "In a few months' time, when you are back in the thick of it all, you will be as anxious to have him there as we are.
Do you think that I could have existed here for nearly two months without him?" "May I inquire," Borrowdean asked, blandly, "how much longer you intend to exist here with him?" She shrugged her shoulders. "All my days perhaps! He and this place together are an anchorage. Look at me! Am I not a different woman?
"Instead of which," he muttered, as he lit a cigarette, "I shall go on to the end." The sunlight streamed down into the little grey courtyard of the Leon D'or at Bonestre. Sir Leslie Borrowdean, in an immaculate grey suit, and with a carefully chosen pink carnation in his button-hole, sat alone at a small table having his morning coffee.
You had frightened him so completely that he was scarcely coherent." Mannering smiled a little gravely. It was like coming back to earth. "Politics with Borrowdean are so much a matter of pounds, shillings and pence that the bare idea of his finding himself a day further away from office frightens him to death," he said. "We are all like the pawns, to be moved about the chessboard of his life."
Borrowdean was a little white, and his teeth had come together. Whatever happened, he told himself, fiercely, this must never be. He felt his breast-pocket mechanically. Yes, the letter was there. Dare he risk it? She was a proud woman, she would be unforgiving if once she believed. But supposing she found him out? He temporized. "Thank you for telling me," he said.
"Afraid! You little idiot!" "Sir Leslie Borrowdean is a very clever man," the girl said. "He is a very clever man, and he has been a lawyer. That sort of person knows how to ask questions to find out things." "Rubbish!" the woman remarked, sitting up on the couch. "Why do you try to make me so uncomfortable, Hester? Sir Leslie may be very clever, but I am not exactly a fool myself."
When he answered, his voice seemed to rise scarcely above a whisper. "My friend," he said, "it was not worth while!" Borrowdean was almost angry. "Not worth while," he repeated, contemptuously. "Is it worth while, then, to play golf, to linger in your flower gardens, to become a dilettante student, to dream away your days in the idleness of a purely enervating culture?
She was standing alone in the gateway of the hotel, and she watched them until they were out of sight. Borrowdean, sauntering out to buy some papers, paused for a moment as he passed. "Your husband, Mrs. Mannering," he said, drily, "is a very fortunate man." She made no reply, and Borrowdean passed on. Hester came out with a message from Lady Redford would Mrs.
There is no alternative!" "Very well, then," she said, "I will go. I make no promises, mind. I will listen to what he has to say. I will put our view of the situation before him. But I make no promises. It is possible, even, that I shall come to his point of view, whatever it may be." Borrowdean smiled.
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