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Carraby's hand and looked up at her eyes and walked by without changing a muscle. Of course I did the same very nearly as well, too, I believe. Cat!" Julien frowned slightly. "You can imagine," he said, "that I am not very keen about discussing Mrs. Carraby. Yet, after all, her husband and his career were, I suppose, the most important things in life to her."
What he told me, though, I looked upon as simply a little more malice from my friend Carraby." "Tell me exactly his news?" "He told me," Julien continued, "that there is a good deal of unrest over in London concerning our relations with France. The absolute candor and completely good understanding which existed a short time ago seems to have become clouded.
"Haskwell," he said, "kindly return in ten minutes." The young man quitted the room. Mrs. Carraby advanced a few steps further towards her husband. She was tall, beautifully dressed in the latest extreme of fashion. Her movements were quiet, her skin a little pale, and her eyebrows a little light. Nevertheless, she was quite a famous beauty. Men all admired her without any reservations.
"Nothing except that before everybody she once more cut me dead, cut me wickedly," Mrs. Carraby declared. "You don't understand the tragedy of this to a woman. You are not likely to. She did it in such a way this time that there isn't a person worth knowing in London who isn't laughing about it at the present moment." "Beast of a woman!" he muttered. Mrs.
You must let me ring for my servant. He will find you a taxicab." He moved toward the bell. Mrs. Carraby, with her hands inside her muff, stood exactly as though she were part of the furniture of the room. With his finger upon the ivory disc, he hesitated. She was not looking towards him and her eyes were half closed. "Perhaps," he suggested, "you would rather find your way out alone?
What the devil should I have to say to my people if within a couple of months of taking office we were plunged into war?" "I do not pretend," Mrs. Carraby remarked, "to be an active politician, but I have heard it said that the best way to avoid war is to show that you are not afraid of it. They say that that is where Sir Julien Portel was so splendid.
"Is it true," she whispered, "that the Carraby woman has bolted?" Julien nodded. "I am afraid there isn't a doubt about it," he admitted. "How are things to-night? Anything new?" she asked. "Quite calm again," he replied. "The trouble seems to have passed over. Falkenberg's death upset the whole scheme which was brewing against us, whatever it may have been.
There was Jewish blood in his veins and it made itself felt. "Mabel," he began, "this man Portel you've flirted with him, you say?" "I have most certainly flirted with him," she admitted quietly. "He hasn't dared " A flash of scorn lit her cold eyes. "I think," she said, "that you had better ask me no questions of that sort." Carraby went slowly out. Already the moment was passing.
You were the only Liberal Foreign Minister in whom they believed. This man Carraby they despise. Besides, he has Jewish blood in his veins and you know what that means over here. Jesen's articles come thundering out and already other papers are beginning to follow suit. The poison has been at work for months. You remember monsieur and madame and mademoiselle, with whom I talked so earnestly?
The library of the house in Grosvenor Square was spacious, handsome and ornate. Mr. Algernon H. Carraby, M.P., who sat dictating letters to a secretary in an attitude which his favorite photographer had rendered exceedingly familiar, at any rate among his constituents, was also, in his way, handsome and ornate. Mrs.
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