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Of course one of the young ladies was very naughty, and was treated with extreme severity; then there was dinner, a walk, an illness, and a dinner-party. While all the time the two real governesses sat in the shade outside, and talked in English or German as best they might, the Fraulein understanding Christabel's English the best, as did Christabel the Fraulein's German.
Maud talked, pouring out tea and dropping sugar into the cups with tragic emphasis; Lilias prattled sweetly, waving her white hands to enforce a point which no one heard; Nan banged the table and upset her cup in violence of denunciation; Elsie squeaked away in melancholy treble; and Agatha's "Too bad!" and Christabel's "Horrid shame!" were heard uninterruptedly in every pause.
You'd better keep beside her, Francis. The mare was fidgety and hot-headed. Christabel's hands were unsteady, her face was pale, her lips were tight; but she was gay, and Francis was proud to have her and her mount admired. Rose looked round in despair. Could no one else see what was so plain to her? She was tempted to go home.
He has been to Canada to see Christabel's family. No, he didn't say how he was, but I thought he looked rather old. 'Ah, poor boy, Sophia said. 'I think, Rose dear, it would be kind to ask him here. 'Oh, he knows he can come when he likes, Rose said. On the other side of the table Henrietta was shaking delicately.
She looked warily from one to the other. 'I'm recommending you to stick to the old brown horse, but Francis says you laugh at him. 'Would you ride him yourself? Christabel asked. 'Not if I could get something better. 'Well, then Christabel's tone was final. But Rose persisted, saying, 'But, you see, this isn't my first season. Stick to the old horse for a little while.
Banks's daily help who could cook but had no character; she described the stickiness of his collar; and because she was always readily responsive to her surroundings, she found it natural to be humorous in a somewhat spiteful way; and at a casual mention of the Battys, she became amusing at the expense of Charles and felt a slight regret when she had roused Christabel's laughter.
Agnes is there any "interior" to match that of Christabel's chamber, done as it is in little more than half a dozen lines. These beauties, it is true, are fragmentary, like the poem itself, but there is no reason to believe that the poem itself would have gained anything in its entirety that is to say, as a poetic narrative by completion.
And before long it all seemed like a dream, but it was a dream that might recur if she ran the risk. No, she would never go there again, she would never envy Aunt Rose a lover from that house, she would never believe that the worst of Christabel's implications were true.
She looked tall and straight in her habit, and formidable. 'Are you going? But you must have tea with Francis. He's expecting you. 'I won't stay to-day, Rose said. She was shaking with the anger she suppressed. 'But if you don't, Christabel cried, 'he'll want to know why. He'll ask me! 'I can't help that, Rose said. Tears came into Christabel's eyes. 'You might at least do that for me.
From that corner Rose had a view of the long room, mediocre in its decoration, mediocre in its occupants. She could see her host standing before the fire, swinging his eyeglasses on a cord and gazing at the cornice as the song proceeded. She could see Christabel's neck and shoulders and the back of her fair head.
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