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Updated: June 20, 2025
Van Clupp, with her usual ill-bred eagerness to ingratiate herself with the titled and wealthy, "I hope you will come and see me, Lady Errington? I am at home every Friday evening to my friends." "Oh yes," said Thelma, simply. "But I am not your friend yet! When we do know each other better I will come.
Presently, out of the ladies' cloak-room come two fascinating figures the one plump and matronly, with grey hair and a capacious neck glittering with diamonds, the other a slim girl in pale pink, with dark eyes and a ravishing complexion, for whom the lazy gentlemen on the stairs make immediate and respectful room. "How d'ye do, Mrs. Van Clupp?" says one of the loungers.
Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, Mrs. Van Clupp and Marcia make their way slowly through the gabbling, pushing, smirking crowd till they form a part of the little coterie immediately round Lady Winsleigh, to whom, at the first opportunity, Mrs. Marvelle whispers "Have they come?" "The modern Paris and the new Helen?" laughs Lady Clara, with a shrug of her snowy shoulders. "No, not yet.
"Don't hurry yourself about it!" she returned in the same confidential tone. "I dare say you'll want me to arrange the wedding and the 'crush' afterwards. I can wait till then." "No, no! that's a separate affair," declared Mrs. Van Clupp. "I must insist on your taking the promised two hundred. You've been really so very energetic!" "Well, I have worked rather hard," said Mrs.
And he moved through the swaying crowd, with her little gloved hand resting lightly on his coat-sleeve, while Marcia Van Clupp and her mother exchanged looks of wonder and dismay.
You are a remarkable woman!" Mrs. Marvelle smiled, somewhat mollified. "You see," she then condescended to explain "the whole thing is so extremely disappointing to me. I wanted Marcia Van Clupp to go in for the Errington stakes, it would have been such an excellent match, money on both sides.
"Garlinge and Clupp, go scour the pikes. Tom Cropper, find something to keep you out of mischief. As for you, Gaffer Shard, you may rest awhile." The old man shook his frosty head vigorously. "Nay, nay," he piped, "I need no rest. My old bones are loyal and cannot tire in a good cause. God save the King."
Rush-Marvelle had her hands full of other matters, she was aiding and abetting Marcia Van Clupp to set traps for that mild mouse Lord Masherville, and she was too much absorbed in this difficult and delicate business to attend to anything else just then.
"I guess I'll pay him out for this!" she thought as she watched him feebly drinking soda-water for his headache. "He's a man that wants ruling, and ruled he shall be!" And Mrs. Rush-Marvelle and Mrs. Van Clupp observed her manoeuvres with maternal interest, while the cunning-faced, white-headed Van Clupp conversed condescendingly with Mr.
And Marcia would have been just the girl to look after that place down in Warwickshire the house is going to rack and ruin, in my opinion." "Ah, yes!" agreed her husband mildly. "Van Clupp is a fine girl a very fine girl! No end of 'go' in her. And so Errington Manor needs a good deal of repairing, perhaps?" This query was put by Mr.
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