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Updated: June 27, 2025
Of course, she'd led rather a wild and wearing life since she was a child; suddenly she collapsed. I do feel that you've saved her life, you know; she's the old, vital, irresistible Babs once more except that you've taught her to take care of herself." "The position is a little awkward. If people talk, if Lord Crawleigh " "I think he quite likes you," Amy interrupted.
"Lady Crawleigh wants me to go down there next week-end, but I'm too busy; and week-ends simply wear me out." "You have made yourself popular with them all at once!" Sybil commented. "What's Lady Barbara like?" "Interesting girl," Eric answered, casually. "Is she anything like what people make her out to be?" Eric smiled tolerantly.
Neither seemed to notice it, for Barbara was becoming autobiographical. Her story was ill-arranged and discursive, with personal characteristics of Lord Crawleigh sandwiched between her life at Government House, Ottawa, and a thwarted romance between her brother and a designing American.
"The 5.40 stops at Winchester and Crawleigh." "I could have told you that," said Eric. "So could Bradshaw, deceased." "But fancy looking at Bradshaw, when you can persuade some one to look at it for you! . . . And you can't get anywhere in Bradshaw without going through the Severn Tunnel and waiting two hours at Bletchley. Besides, Waterloo rather loved me.
In the spring and summer of 1915, when Crawleigh Abbey was a military hospital, she had worked by night and lain awake by day, deliberately and with the sun shining on her face, for fear of dreaming. Madness or death could be no worse than the torture of being pitilessly and unceasingly watched when she knew that she was only dreaming but could not wake.
As soon as she was fit to move, he ordered his villa to be made ready, set the dismantling of his London house in hand, closed Crawleigh Abbey and carried his wife and daughter to Charing Cross with a relentlessness and speed which gave their departure the appearance of an abduction.
Eric looked from one to the other. "I should prescribe three months in the country, bed at ten and make her stay there for twelve hours." "I should be out of my mind in a week," Barbara protested. There was a pause, and Lady Crawleigh, with a rueful shrug, turned away to speak to Gaymer. "I like the way you order me into bed and out of bed!" Barbara whispered.
John Ball had a stable yard down near the Crawleigh Road, up a short lane, and his sow was known to have a litter of ten young ones. The two Nubian donkeys, contentedly munching at bundles of hay, met their gaze as they entered the yard.
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