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"You must know little Aggie the niece of the Duchess: I forget if you've met the Duchess, but you must know HER too there are so many things on which I'm sure she'll feel with you. Little Aggie's the one," she continued; "you'll delight in her; SHE ought to have been mamma's grandchild." "Dearest lady, how can you pretend or for a moment compare her ?" Mr. Cashmore broke in.
Cashmore was at the door, and still another man of fifty, a stern-set, blue-chinned, stoutish person in deep and perfect mourning, including black gloves. This person gazed coldly at Priam Farll. "Ah!" ejaculated the mourner. And stepped in, followed by Dr. Cashmore. In achieving the inner mat the mourner perceived a white square on the floor.
He denies to my face that I AM one. One would suppose, to hear him, not only that I'm a small objectionable child, but that I'm scarcely even human. He doesn't conceive me as with human wants." "Oh," Mr. Cashmore laughed, "you've all you youngsters as many wants, I know, as an advertisement page of the Times." Harold showed an admiration. "That's awfully good.
'Tishy keeps me dinner and opera; clothes all right; return uncertain, but if before morning have latch-key. She won't come home till morning!" said Mrs. Brook. "But think of the comfort of the latch-key!" Vanderbank laughed. "You might go to the opera," he said to Mr. Longdon. "Hanged if I don't!" Mr. Cashmore exclaimed. Mr.
She wants us not to have to think. It's quite maternal!" she mused again. Then as if with the pleasure of presenting it to him afresh: "That's the modern daughter!" "Well," said Mr. Cashmore, "I can't help wishing she were a trifle less considerate. In that case I might find her with you, and I may tell you frankly that I get more from her than I do from you.
Then she addressed to Mr. Cashmore with a small formal nod one of her lovely wan smiles. "What I'm talking about, s'il vous plait, is marriage." "I wonder if you know," the Duchess broke out on this, "how silly you all sound!
He had not even given false information to the registrar. And Dr. Cashmore could throw no light on the episode, for he was dead. His wife and daughters had at last succeeded in killing him. In short, the matter was the most curious that ever was.
"I don't mean that," the girl returned "it's just that he understands perfectly, because he saw them all, in such an extraordinary way well, what can I ever call it? clutch me and cling to me." Mrs. Brook, with full gravity, considered this picture. "And was Mr. Cashmore to-day so ridiculous?" "Ah he's not ridiculous, mamma he's very unhappy.
Your wife doesn't she towers above them. I can be a shade less brave through the chance of my girl's not happening to feel her as the rest of us do." Mr. Cashmore too heavily followed. "To 'feel' her?" Mrs. Brook floated over. "There would be in that case perhaps something to hint to her not to shriek on the house-tops.
He really did know human nature, and he never dreamt of anything more paradisaical than a Sunday Pullman escapade to Brighton. "This Mr. Farll's?" asked Dr. Cashmore, with the unintentional asperity of shyness. As for Priam, the revelation of his name by Leek shocked him almost into a sweat. Surely the number of the house should have sufficed. "Yes," he admitted, half shy and half vexed.
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