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Updated: June 19, 2025
Her impertinence was so alluring as she sat opposite to him, trailing both hands in the water, that Buntingford submitted. There was a momentary silence. Then Helena said: "Lady Cynthia came to see me the other day. Did you send her?" "Of course. I wanted you to make friends." "That we should never do! We were simply born to dislike each other."
That is what I intend. There is nothing I dislike so much as this haggling about money, especially with a lady. Miss Thoroughbung is a lady for whom I have the highest possible esteem." "That's of course." "For whom, I repeat, I have the highest possible esteem. But she has friends who have their own ideas as to money. The brewery in Buntingford belongs to them, and they are very worthy people.
He shut the door with care, suggesting that they should speak as quietly as possible, since the house was so small, and sound travelled so easily through it. "Where is she?" said Buntingford, abruptly, as he took the chair Alcott pushed towards him. "Just overhead. It is our only spare room."
Buntingford and Cynthia walked across the park to Beechmark. From the extreme despondency they were lifted to an extreme of hope. Buntingford had felt, as it were, the spirit of his son strain towards his own; the hidden soul had looked out. And in his deep emotion, he was very naturally conscious of a new rush of affection and gratitude towards his old playfellow and friend.
It was clear that however much they might still disagree, Buntingford had conquered her original dislike of him, and was in process of becoming the guide, philosopher, and friend her mother had meant him to be. And Buntingford had charm and character, and imagination. He could force a girl like Helena to respect him intellectually; with such a nature that was half the battle.
She had looked for a servant in vain, and Buntingford was nowhere to be seen. French could do no less than offer to assist; and Helena, biting her lip, despatched him. "I will wait for you at the boathouse." He rushed off, with Cynthia toiling after him, and Helena descended to the lake.
Geoffrey French, Captain Lodge, Peter, and Julian Horne, were in a few instants grouped round their host, with Helena and Cynthia just behind. "The Dansworth mob's out of hand," said Buntingford briefly. "They've set fire to another building, and the police are hard pressed. They want specials at once. Who'll come? I've just had a most annoying message from my chauffeur.
When he had gone, she could only wonder what she had done to offend him; and a certain dreariness crept into the evening light. She was not the least in love with Philip that she assured herself. But his sudden changes of mood were very trying to one who would like to be his friend. Buntingford walked rapidly home.
"It will last our time," said Peter recklessly. "Have you seen Buntingford?" "A little while ago, he was sitting out with Lady Cynthia. But when he passed me just now, he told me he was going down to look after the lake and the boats in case of accidents. There is a current at one end apparently, and a weir; and the keeper who understands all about it is in a Canada regiment on the Rhine."
Cynthia's expression was hard to read; she seemed to be rushing on with the car, watching the face beside Buntingford, the young hands on the wheel, the keen eyes looking ahead, the play of talk between them. "What a splendid creature!" said Lady Maud half-unwillingly, as she and Cynthia walked back to the lawn. "I'm afraid I don't at all approve of her in ordinary life.
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