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Updated: June 24, 2025
The inflexion of Lady Ingleton's voice at that moment made Dion think of Mrs. Chetwinde. Once or twice Mrs. Chetwinde's voice had sounded almost exactly like that when she had spoken of Mrs. Clarke. "Especially people who are innocent," he said. "Naturally, as Cynthia was. Beadon Clarke made a terrible mistake, poor fellow."
"Exactly," returned the doctor, looking at his nails. Dion saw the star falling above the hill of Drouva. Did the Hermes know? On the following Sunday afternoon Dion was able to fulfil his promise to Daventry. Rosamund and the baby were "doing beautifully"; he was not needed at home, so he set out with Daventry, who came to fetch him, to visit Mrs. Willie Chetwinde in Lowndes Square.
"She came back to-day, and sent round to ask if she might come." Mrs. Chetwinde wandered away, insouciant and observant as ever. Even at her own parties she always had an air of faintly detached indifference, never bothered about how "it" was "going." If it chose to stop it could, and her guests must put up with it. When she left him Dion hesitated. Mrs.
As he came up one of the latter was saying: "It's all Lady Ermyntrude's fault. She always hated Cynthia, and she has a heart of stone." The case again! "Oh, are you going?" said Mrs. Chetwinde. She got up and came away from the tea-table. "D'you like Cynthia Clarke?" she asked. "Yes, very much. She interests me." "Ah?" She looked at him, and seemed about to say something, but did not speak.
But a tall man, Sir John Killigrew, one of her adherents, spoke to her, and she turned to give him her complete attention. "I'll walk with you, if you're going," said Canon Wilton's strong voice in Dion's ear. "That's splendid. I'll just say good-by to Mrs. Chetwinde." He found her by the tea-table with three or four men and two very smart women.
"So was mine. Babies are always said to be wonderful, and never are. And we love ours chiefly because they aren't. I hate things with wings growing out of their shoulders. My boy's a very naughty boy." They talked about the baby, and then about Mrs. Clarke's son of ten; and then Canon Wilton came up, shook hands warmly with Dion, and was introduced by Mrs. Chetwinde to Mrs. Clarke.
Chetwinde, he passed by her; as he did so she looked at him, and he saw that she thoroughly considered him, with a grave swiftness which seemed to be an essential part of her personality. Then she spoke to Esme Darlington.
Chetwinde had most strangely married, went downstairs to the black-and-white dining-room to drink champagne and eat small absurdities of various kinds. A way was opened for Dion to Mrs. Clarke, who was still on the red sofa. Dion noticed the fair young man hovering, and surely with intention in his large eyes, in the middle distance, but he went decisively forward, took Mrs.
The tight sleeves of it were unusually long and ended in points. They were edged with some transparent white material which rested against her small hands. She sat down and he sat down by her, and they began to talk. Unlike Mrs. Chetwinde, Mrs.
Chetwinde was her intimate friend; Esme Darlington had even made sacrifices for her; Bruce Evelin There Dion's thought was held up, like a stream that encounters a barrier. What did Bruce Evelin think of Mrs. Clarke? He had not gone to the trial. But since he had retired from practise at the Bar he had never gone into court. Dion had often heard him say he had had enough of the Law Courts.
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