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Lawrence put her fingers to a silken amber bow at Aminta's throat, and squared it and flattened it with dainty precision, speaking on under dropped eyelids, intent upon her work, 'Lady de Culme will be happy to welcome you whenever it shall suit the Countess of Ormont to accompany her disreputable friend. But what can I do, dear? She raised her lids and looked beseechingly.
Faxon's laugh deepened the sense of solidarity which had so promptly established itself between the two. His friend laughed also. "Mrs. Culme," he explained, "was lunching at my uncle's to-day, and she said you were due this evening. But seven hours is a long time for Mrs. Culme to remember anything."
Faxon's laugh deepened the sense of solidarity which had so promptly established itself between the two. The newcomer laughed also. "Mrs. Culme," he explained, "was lunching at my uncle's today, and she said you were due this evening. But seven hours is a long time for Mrs. Culme to remember anything."
Culme's secretary explained his difficulty, and the other brushed it aside with a contemptuous "Oh, Mrs. Culme!" that carried both speakers a long way toward reciprocal understanding. "But then you must be " The youth broke off with a smile of interrogation. "The new secretary? Yes. But apparently there are no notes to be answered this evening."
'But as for comprehending him, I'm as far off that as Lady de Culme, who hasn't the liking for him I have. 'The earl? said Aminta, showing by her look that she was in the same position. Mrs. Lawrence shrugged: 'I believe men and women marry in order that they should never be able to understand one another. The riddle's best read at a moderate distance.
'No place on earth is equal to Steignton for me. It 's got the charm. Here at Olmer I'm a mother and a grandmother the "devil of an old-woman" my neighbours take me to be. She hasn't been to Steignton, either. No, and won't go there, though she's working her way round, she supposes. He'll do everything for his "Aminta," but he won't take her to Steignton. I'm told now she's won Lady de Culme.
But the Coak is reckoned by most to exceed all others for making Drink of the finest Flavour and pale Colour, because it sends no smoak forth to hurt the Malt with any offensive tang, that Wood, Fern and Straw are apt to do in a lesser or greater degree; but there is a difference even in what is call'd Coak, the right sort being large Pit- coal chark'd or burnt in some measure to a Cinder, till all the Sulphur is consumed and evaporated away, which is called Coak, and this when it is truly made is the best of all other Fuels; but if there is but one Cinder as big as an Egg, that is not thoroughly cured, the smoak of this one is capable of doing a little damage, and this happens too often by the negligence or avarice of the Coak-maker: There is another sort by some wrongly called Coak, and rightly named Culme or Welch-coal, from Swanzey in Pembrokeshire, being of a hard stony substance in small bits resembling a shining Coal, and will burn without smoak, and by its sulphureous effluvia cast a most excellent whiteness on all the outward parts of the grainy body: In Devonshire I have seen their Marble or grey Fire-stone burnt into Lime with the strong fire that this Culme makes, and both this and the Chark'd Pit-coal affords a most sweet moderate and certain fire to all Malt that is dryed by it.
At the same time, her heart cried out violently against the business of a visit to Lady de Culme, and all the steps it involved. Justly she accused her heart of treason. Heart and head were severed. This, as she partly apprehended, is the state of the woman who is already on the slope of her nature's mine-shaft, dreading the rush downwards, powerless to break away from the light.
Lady de Culme won't hear of the Queen of Blondes; has forbidden her these many years! Lord Ormont, to whom the lady's prattle was addressed, kept his visage moveless, except in slight jerks of the brows. 'What queen? 'You insist upon renewing my old, old pangs of jealousy, my dear lord! The Queen of Cyprus, they called her, in the last generation; she fights our great duellist handsomely.
Lawrence put her fingers to a silken amber bow at Aminta's throat, and squared it and flattened it with dainty precision, speaking on under dropped eyelids, intent upon her work, 'Lady de Culme will be happy to welcome you whenever it shall suit the Countess of Ormont to accompany her disreputable friend. But what can I do, dear? She raised her lids and looked beseechingly.
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