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Updated: July 18, 2025
"She confessed to me that she had pledged a great deal of the time for which I pay her to Evelyn Crowborough's bazaar, and asked what she was to do. I told her, of course, that I would put up with nothing of the kind." "And were more annoyed, alack! than propitiated by her confession?" said Sir Wilfrid, with a shrug. "I dare say," said Lady Henry.
"When I left England she was only just married." "Oh yes, she's happy enough, though Crowborough's rather an ass." "How particularly?" Delafield smiled. "Well, he's rather a sticky sort of person. He thinks there's something particularly interesting in dukes, which makes him a bore." "Take care, Jacob! Who knows that you won't be a duke yourself some day?" "What do you mean?"
"Overworking himself in the East End, as all the young parsons seem to be doing?" "That is precisely what he has been doing. But now, I am thankful to say, a country living has been offered him, and his mother and I have persuaded him to take it." "A country living? Where?" "One of the Duke of Crowborough's Shropshire livings," said the General, after what seemed to be an instant's hesitation.
At any rate, pity and love for her poor Julie however foolish, however faulty lay warm in Evelyn Crowborough's breast; they had brought her to Como; they kept her now battling on the one hand with her husband's angry letters and on the other with the melancholy of her most perplexing, most appealing friend. I won't repeat the arguments I have used a hundred times in vain.
Never had the dauntless little woman revealed more surprising resourcefulness, never had she talked so vivaciously, never had she appeared so relentlessly pleasant. It was as if she said in the face of Mrs. Crowborough's insensibility, which was the insensibility not of mind, but of inanimate matter, "Whatever you do, you can't keep me from being sweet."
On the whole, he preferred brown eyes, though his wife's were the colour of slate. "Why the deuce did she marry that fool?" he questioned impatiently. Across the table Billy King was working hopelessly but valiantly to engage Mrs. Crowborough's attention. What a splendid figure he had, and how clean and fine was the modelling of his features!
Mademoiselle Le Breton had moved away, and was replacing the photographs in the drawer of a distant bureau. "Ah, one of Crowborough's? Well, I hope it is a living with something to live on." "Not so bad, as times go," said the General, smiling. "It has been a great relief to our minds. There were some chest symptoms; his mother was alarmed.
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