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Updated: May 28, 2025
Go, I tell you, and see what they are doing in there with the door shut." "But, my dear Mrs. Cheston," echoed her host with a deprecating wave of his hand "my Harry would no more attack a man under his own roof than you would cut off your right hand. He's not born that way none of us are." "You talk like a perfect idiot, Talbot!" she retorted angrily.
Cheston had replied with a twinkle in her mouse eyes and a toss of her gray head: "So was Byron, my dear woman a very dreadful and most disreputable person, but I can't spare him from my Library, nor should you." None of these criticisms would have affected St. George had he heard them, and we may be sure no one dared tell him.
Think it over, judge," and he strolled into the card-room, picked up the morning paper, and buried his face in its columns, his teeth set, his face aflame with suppressed disgust at the kind of blood running in the judge's veins. The colonel's treatment of his son also came in for heated discussion. Mrs. Cheston was particularly outspoken.
She had heard every word of the talk between Mrs. Cheston and the colonel, but she did not share the old lady's alarm as to any actual conflict. She would trust Uncle George to avoid that. But what kept Harry? Why leave her thus abruptly and send no word back? In her dilemma she leaned forward and touched the colonel's arm. "You don't think anything is the matter, dear colonel, do you?"
"The same old root of all evil, my dear," he said with a dry laugh "too much peach brandy, and this time down the wrong throats and so in their joy they must celebrate by firing off pistols and wasting my good ammunition," an explanation which completely satisfied the dear lady peach brandy being capable of producing any calamity, great or small. But this would not do for Mrs. Cheston.
"I was glad that day that Bernard liked to go fishing, for my mind was in such a condition that I did not think of anything that might happen to him at least, anything but just one thing, and that was awful. Emily Cheston supposed I had a headache, and I let her think so, for it gave me more time to myself. I looked at the thing that threatened to crush all my happiness, on every possible side.
Cheston knew, for she had hobnobbed with kings and queens, her husband having represented his government at the Court of St. James which fact, however, never prevented her from calling a spade a spade; nor was she ever very particular as to what the spade unearthed.
Cheston, however, was more alert; not only had she caught the anger in Harry's eyes, but she had followed the flight of the torn card as its pieces fell to the floor. She had once been present at a reception given by a prime minister when a similar fracas had occurred.
She would have thrown herself from it if Mrs. Cheston had not held her, although it was but a few feet from the ground. "Harry!" she shrieked an agonizing shriek that reverberated through the ballroom, bringing everybody and everything to a stand-still. The dancers looked at each other in astonishment. What had happened? Who had fainted? The colonel now passed through the room.
No my dear Purviance I don't want to be rude and I am sure you will not think I am personal. I am only trying to be just to one of the master spirits of our time so that I won't be humiliated when his real worth becomes a household word." The women took a different view. "I can't understand what Mr. Temple is thinking of," said the wife of the archdeacon to Mrs. Cheston. "This Mr.
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