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At least you can't make it French, however you twist it" "I'm not anxious to twist it. Don't you see, Arthur, she is evidently a Frenchwoman who married a man called Peter Ross; she is the veuve, widow, you know! of the lamented Scotchman. Now do you understand? But it is peculiar." "Very," said Clarges. "When do we start?"
When he was perfectly certain that his cousin was sound asleep, so sound that "a good yelp from the county pack, and a stirring chorus of 'John Peel' by forty in pink could not wake him," thought Clarges, the latter undertook his delicate task and accomplished it. He did it quickly and skilfully with a tiny lancet he found in his cousin's well-appointed travelling bag. Bovey never stirred.
Vivie: "Yes the pretty girl short, curly hair, brown eyes, rather full lips, good at mathematics hockey ... purposely shocked you by her outspokenness well?" Norie: "Well, she's had a baby ... a month ago ... awful rumpus with her people ... Father's Dean Clarges ... Norwich or Ely, I forget which ... They've put her in a Nursing Home in Seymour Street.
Among the persons who exhibited their talents at the Countess of Rosenberg's last week, our country-woman's performance was most applauded; but when I name Lady Clarges, no one will wonder. It is said that painting is now but little cultivated among them; Rome will however be the place for such enquiries.
When he took her off, Brady swore he would never forgive Barry or Bell; but coming to London in the year '46, he fell in once more with Roaring Harry, and lived in his fine house in Clarges Street, and lost a few pieces to him at play, and broke a watchman's head or two in his company, all of which reminiscences endeared Bell and her son very much to the good-hearted gentleman, and he received us both with open arms.
Nigel glanced over her shoulder and read the entry to which she was pointing: "Immelan Oscar, 13 Clarges Street, W. Mayfair 146." Nigel played golf at Ranelagh, on the following Sunday morning, with Jere Chalmers, a young American in the Diplomatic Service, who had just arrived in London and brought a letter of introduction to him.
We'll change the subject. I'm very sleepy. Don't expect to find me up when you come in, Arthur; to-morrow night, remember, we may be sleeping on the cold ground, I shall get all the rest I can to-night." Clarges and the other man took their leave. "Once more, Bovey," said the former, "won't you be done? Simpson, make him!
One morning, at the corner of Clarges Street and Curzon Street, about three weeks after his visit to the Opera, he came face to face with Sir Timothy Brast. "Well, my altruistic peerer into other people's affairs, how goes it?" the latter enquired pleasantly. "How does it seem, my arch-criminal, to be still breathing God's fresh air?" Francis retorted in the same vein. "Make the most of it.
This was her contribution to general chat, until such time had elapsed as would warrant departure and round the visit plausibly off. It was Clarges Street that had done it. Irene was sure of that! She, the daughter of the Miss Abercrombie her father had married, sitting there and coming to conclusions! However, the Countess meant to go no doubt of it.
How it brought back Clarges Street and her mother, and the family earthquake over her resolution to marry a young Dragoon, with three good lives between him and his inheritance! She was taken aback to find herself still so sensitive about that old story.
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