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Updated: June 26, 2025
I'll pay ye, ye know." Miss Butterworth thought she could, and on that promise Jim remained in Sevenoaks. How he got out of the house he did not remember, but he went away very much exalted. What he did during those two days it did not matter to him, so long as he could walk over to Miss Butterworth's each night, and watch her light from his cover in the trees.
The gray parasol you have been good enough to send to my house is not mine, but I was in the room where you picked it up, as you have so cleverly concluded, and as it is useless for me to evade your perspicacity, I have come here to confess." "Ah!" The detective was profoundly interested at once. He drew a chair up to Miss Butterworth's side and sat down. "You were there!" he repeated; "and when?
Isn't it the most ridiculous thing, now?" "No; it isn't ridiculous at all," said Mrs. Snow, soberly. Miss Butterworth's moon was sailing high that evening. There were but few clouds in her heaven, but occasionally a tender vapor passed across the silver disk, and one passed at this moment. Her eyes were loaded with tears as she looked up in Mrs. Snow's face, and said: "I was very lonely, you know.
Hubert had returned from his ride, and Winifred met him in the upper hall and confided to him her perplexity. "I feel as though there were two of me instead of one," she said. "One of us would like to go to Mrs. Butterworth's party." "And the other one?" asked Hubert. "Decided last Sunday not to go," she answered. "Which one do you think is on the Lord's side?" he queried.
"Winifred, dear," she said, "have you looked at your new white dress to see if it requires anything to be done before Mrs. Butterworth's party? Did we not think the girdle should be altered slightly?" "I was looking at it this morning, mother," faltered Winifred, and Hubert shot a sympathetic glance across the table. "Will it need altering, do you think?"
Butterworth's rapturous "heavenly" was in strong contrast to the conviction of godless insincerity which filled her own heart. Mercifully to her embarrassment her father began again: "But do you not think, Mr. Bond, that we must take things as they are? Granted that there is a great deal of unreality in the church, what are we going to do about it?
Now, he saw Miss Butterworth's hand in it. Evidently, Mr. Belcher was not the only man who had been honored by a call from that philanthropic woman. As he thought the matter over, he regretted that, for the sake of giving form and force to his spite against her, he should be obliged to relinquish the popularity he might have won by favoring a reformative measure.
Butterworth's; the gay scene, the intoxicating music, the hollow courtesies, flattering words and glances, the dancing just an instant vision of the scene that arose in sheer contrast against the pure holiness of the things they had been considering, and Winifred turned from it quickly.
The two younger girls had slept together, and discussed at length the duties of their respective offices. One was to do the bride's hair and act as the general supervisor of her dress, the other was to arrange the flowers and take care of the guests. Miss Butterworth's hair was not beautiful, and how it was to be made the most of was the great question that agitated the hair-dresser.
Belcher's happiness in seeing her, and his kind suggestion concerning her health, had overspread Miss Butterworth's countenance with a derisive smile, and though she was evidently moved to tell him that he lied, she had reasons for restraining her tongue. They formed a curious study, as they sat there together, during the first embarrassing moments.
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