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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Lady Canterbridge, Frank's cousin," explained Sir Robert, hesitatingly, as if conscious of some vague awkwardness. Bradley and Lady Canterbridge both bowed, possibly the latter's salutation was the most masculine, and Bradley, eventually forgetting her presence, plunged into an earnest, sympathetic, and intelligent account of the condition in which he found the invalid at St. Moritz.
Bradley I mean," said Lady Canterbridge from the lower end of the table, looking up from her letter, "who looks a little like Mrs. Summertree, and has a pretty cousin with her who has very good frocks, I'm afraid you won't be able to get her down here. She's booked with engagements for the next six weeks.
Hardly the one you speak of, my dear." Lady Canterbridge proved a true prophet. Mrs. Bradley and Miss Macy did not come, regretfully alleging a previous engagement made on the continent with the Duke of Northforeland and the Marquis of Dungeness; but the unexpected and apocryphal husband DID arrive.
Lady Canterbridge tightly and stiffly buttoned in black from her long narrow boots to her slim, white-collared neck, stood beside him with a prayer-book in her ungloved hand. Bradley colored quickly; the penetrating incense of the Christmas boughs and branches that decked the walls and ceilings, mingled with some indefinable intoxicating aura from the woman at his side, confused his senses.
Lady Canterbridge, who had come to the station in bored curiosity, raised her clear blue eyes to his. He did not look like a fool, a complaisant or fashionably-cynical husband this well-dressed, well-mannered, but quietly and sympathetically observant man. Did he really care for his selfish wife? was it perfect trust or some absurd Transatlantic custom? She did not understand him.
But the next moment the Baronet's voice rose, persuasively, "Really, I must insist upon relieving you of your bag and umbrella." "Well, if you'll let me telegraph 'yes' to Minty, I don't care if yer do." When the room was quiet again, Lady Canterbridge and James Bradley silently slipped from the curtain, and, without a word, separated at the door.
You hang onter that sentence on BUSINESS! it's about ez much ez you kin carry, I reckon, and leave that grip sack alone." From behind the curtain Bradley made a sudden movement to go forward; but Lady Canterbridge now quite pale but collected restrained him with a warning movement of her hand. Sir Robert's stick and halting step were next heard along the passage, and he entered the room.
"I should see him on business and be civil to him afterwards." Sir Robert received the American's levity with his usual seriousness. "No, they must come here for Christmas. His daughter is ?" "Araminta Eulalie Sharpe," said Bradley, in defiant memory of Lady Canterbridge. Sir Robert winced audibly. "I shall rely on you, my dear boy, to help me make it pleasant for them," he said.
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