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Updated: May 15, 2025
His tone was so gentle that she was disarmed though still annoyed. "Come in. I may perhaps point out that it's a long time since you've come to see me like this, Coryston." "Yes. Never mind. What shall I read?" She pointed to a number of the Quarterly that was lying open, and to an article on "The later years of Disraeli." Coryston winced. He knew the man who had written it, and detested him.
Newbury took his leave immediately afterward, saying to Lady Coryston, "So we expect you next Sunday?" The slight emphasis he laid on the words, the pressure on her hand seemed to reveal to her the hope in the young man's mind. Well! the sooner, the better.
And Lady Coryston would have liked to speak, first of all to scold Marcia for forgetting her message, and then to confide in her insignificant as the daughter's part in the mother's real life and thoughts had always been. But she felt physically incapable of bearing the emotion which might spring out upon her from such a conversation.
"I dare say. You're coming?" Sir Wilfrid nodded. "Oh, have you heard ?" She murmured to him behind her fan. Sir Wilfrid knew all their history had been her father's most intimate friend. She gave him a rapid account of Coryston's disinheriting. The old man rose, his humorous eyes suddenly grave. "We'll talk of this at Coryston. Ah, Newbury I took your chair I resign. Hullo, Lester good evening.
"One more lie," he said, violently, "to a jury's credit!" Newbury looked up. It was astonishing what a mask he could make of his face, normally so charged over-charged with expression. "What else could it have been? But this is no time or place for us to discuss our differences, Coryston " "Why not!" cried Coryston, who had turned a dead white.
It made her shiver to remember how he had refused to be nursed by her or by any one but the old housekeeper at Coryston; how for weeks he had scarcely spoken to his father or mother. Then had come the lad's justification a hideous cruelty charge against the head master; and on a quasi-apology from his father, Corry had consented to forgive his parents.
Marion lifted her blue eyes and laughed with her finger on her lip. "Hush! She might hear." She pointed to the half-open window on the first floor. "And a good thing too," growled Coryston. "She adores him and makes him worse. Why can't he work at these things or why can't his secretaries prime him decently!
And indeed it was high time he set up house for himself. There is a restlessness in a man which means marriage; and a mother soon becomes aware of it. Recalling her thoughts to the letters before her, Lady Coryston perceived among them a note from Lady William Newbury asking her and Marcia to spend a week-end at Hoddon Grey. Lady Coryston rather wearily reflected that she must no doubt accept.
Coryston walked back to Knatchett at a furious pace, jumped on his bicycle, and went off to find Marion Atherstone the only person with whom he could trust himself at the moment. He more than suspected that Marcia in a fit of sentimental folly would relent toward Newbury in distress and even his rashness shrank from the possibility of a quarrel which might separate him from his sister for good.
For there had arisen, during these latter years, a man of the people, to lead what Lady Coryston called the "revolution" a man who had suffered cruelties, so it was said, at the hands of the capitalist and employing class; who, as a young miner, blacklisted because of the part he had taken in a successful strike, had gone, cap in hand, to mine after mine, begging vainly for work, his wife and child tramping beside him.
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