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Updated: May 29, 2025
Cust used to tell us another thing," resumed Lucy, breaking the silence: "that these apparently hopeless misfortunes sometimes turn out to be great benefits in the end. Who knows but in a short time, through some magic or other, you and Mrs. Verner may be back at Verner's Pride? Would not that be happiness?"
"Danged if our country down here is worth singing about like that!" continued the glazier, as the Scotchman again melodized with a dying fall, "My ain countree!" "When you take away from among us the fools and the rogues, and the lammigers, and the wanton hussies, and the slatterns, and such like, there's cust few left to ornament a song with in Casterbridge, or the country round."
Astor, with a fine fling for independence his only one in public or else with that old gentlemanly dream of a newspaper "written by gentlemen for gentlemen," had captured his editors in regions where editors are not usually hunted Henry Cust, heir to a title, for the Gazette, Lord Frederick Hamilton, his title already inherited, for the Magazine.
Lucy sat down; not on her favourite stool, but on a low chair, and fixed her eyes upon him gravely. "Do you know what Mr. Cust would say to that?" she asked. "He would tell you that you were ungrateful to God. You are already half-way towards getting well." "I know I am, Lucy. But I am nearly tired of life." "It is only the very old who say that, or ought to say it.
Wilfrid Blunt, Hon. George Curzon, George Wyndham, Godfrey Webb, Doll Liddell, Harry Cust, Mr. A. Lyttelton, Mr. A. J. Balfour, Oscar Wilde, Lord and Lady Ribblesdale, Mrs. George Russell, Mrs. Lionel Tennyson. Our programme for the first number was to have been the following: TO-MORROW Leader Persons and Politics Margot Tennant.
Paul's Cathedral, she pointed out a young man to me and said: "Go and ask Alfred Lyttelton to come to Glen any time this autumn," which I promptly did. The advent of Alfred into our family coincided with that of several new men, the Charterises, Balfours, George Curzon, George Wyndham, Harry Cust, the Crawleys, Jack Pease, "Harry" Paulton, Lord Houghton, Mark Napier, Doll Liddell and others.
Up came those eyes to him, soft and luminous, their only expression being surprise, not a shade of vanity. "I am not a child; why do you call me one? But Mrs. Cust said you would all be taking me for a child, until you knew me." "How old are you?" asked Lionel. "I was eighteen last September." "Eighteen!" involuntarily repeated Lionel.
On my way to the City Hotel, where I had resolved to await like a man what calamity there might be, I again passed the barber-shop. Harpin Cust now leaned, gracefully attentive, on the back of the empty chair, absently swishing his little whisk broom. Before him was planted Potts, his left foot advanced, his head thrown back, reading to Harpin from a spread page of the Argus.
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