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Updated: June 10, 2025
You need not tell me you have a design in all that you do, Willoughby Patterne." "You smell the autocrat? Yes, he can mould and govern the creatures about him. His toughest rebel is himself! If you see Clara . . . You wish to see her, I think you said?" "Her behaviour to Lady Busshe last night was queer." "If you will. She makes a mouth at porcelain. Toujours la porcelaine!
He had received no intimation of Mr. Dale's presence in his house, nor of the arrival of the dreaded women Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer: his locked door was too great a terror to his domestics.
Dale gazed upward, with the feelings of one awakened late to see a world alive in broad daylight. Lady Busshe dropped her voice. She took the liberty permitted to her with an inferior in station, while treating him to a tone of familiarity in acknowledgment of his expected rise; which is high breeding, or the exact measurement of social dues. "Laetitia will be happy, you may be sure.
I am so far in the dark that I have to help myself by recollecting how Lady Busshe opposed my view of a certain matter formerly. Scepticism is her forte. It will be the very oddest thing if after all . . . ! No, I shall own, romance has not departed. Are you fond of dupes?" "I detest the race." "An excellent answer. I could pardon you for it."
"I think it fair, sir, as an instance." "Has the circumstance occurred, I would ask?" "In life? a thousand times." "I fear so," said Mrs. Mountstuart. Lady Busshe showed symptoms of a desire to leave a profitless table. Vernon started up, glancing at the window. "Did you see Crossjay?" he said to Clara. "No; I must, if he is there," said she. She made her way out, Vernon after her.
Never was wilder disorder of wedding-presents, and not one lost! owing, you'll own, to Uncle Benjy's two bottles of ancient Jamaica rum." Colonel De Craye concluded with an asseveration of the truth of the story. "A most provident, far-sighted old sea-captain!" exclaimed Mrs. Mountstuart, laughing at Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer. These ladies chimed in with her gingerly.
Midwinter, Busshe, and Elmes were all wool dealers, or 'broggers' middlemen, that is to say, between the farmers who grew and the staplers who bought wool, but often the staplers dealt directly with individual farmers, buying the small man's clip as well as the great man's, and warm friendships sprang from the annual visits, looked forward to in Yorkshire dale and Cotswold valley.
The great question for the county was debated in many households, daughter-thronged and daughterless, long subsequent to the memorable day of Willoughby's coming of age. Lady Busshe was for Constantia Durham. She laughed at Mrs Mountstuart Jenkinson's notion of Laetitia Dale. She was a little older than Mrs.
Compose yourself; there is no violent hurry, though our sympathy with you and our interest in all the parties does perhaps agitate us a little. Quite at your leisure speak!" "Madam . . . Lady Busshe." Mr. Dale gulped a ball in his throat. "I see no reason why I should not speak. I do not see how I can have been deluded. The Miss Patternes heard him. Dr.
As soon the engagement was published all the county said that there had not been a chance for Laetitia, and Mrs. Mountstuart Jenkinson humbly remarked, in an attitude of penitence, "I'm not a witch." Lady Busshe could claim to be one; she had foretold the event. Laetitia was of the same opinion as the county. She had looked up, but not hopefully.
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