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Updated: May 17, 2025
He's been slacking for years." Dion understood. Bruce Evelin wished Beatrice to marry Daventry. "He respects you tremendously, sir. If any one can make him work, you can." "I'm going to," returned Bruce Evelin, with his quiet force. "He's got remarkable ability, and the slacker well " He looked at Dion with his dark, informed eyes, in which knowledge of the world and of men always seemed sitting.
Dion heard this murmur, which did not seem to be addressed to any particular person. It had come from Mrs. Chetwinde, who now got up and went to speak to Mrs. Clarke. The whole court was in movement. Dion went out to have a hasty lunch with Daventry. "A pity she said that!" Daventry said in a low voice to Dion, hitching up his gown. "Juries like to be deferred to."
With astounding foolhardiness, considering that the house was full of guests, and this a much frequented public room, Daventry proceeded to lock the door, and continue his conversation with Lady Langham in the firelight. Thus, when the lady's husband came knocking at the door, Mrs.
And one could never say of London "my London." When the concert was over she wound a veil about her pale yellow hair, wrapped a thin cloak round her shoulders, took up her music case and asked for Beattie. An eager boy with a smiling round face, one of the Cathedral Choristers, darted off to find Mrs. Daventry, the sister of "our Mrs. Leith"; Mr.
As Daventry had helped to fight for her, and genuinely delighted in her faculties, this was very natural; for Beatrice, unlike Rosamund, was apt to take her color gently from those with whom she lived, desiring to please them, not because she was vain and wished to be thought charming, but because she had an unusually sweet disposition and wished to be charming.
To women very often the motive seems of more importance than the action springing from it. I had an idea that perhaps Rosamund was anxious not to hurt some one's feelings." "Whose?" After a slight hesitation Daventry said: "Mrs. Clarke's." "Did Mrs.
Every one could see at a glance that the romantic Anarchist was going to sneak in at the window and attempt to abstract the despatch-box, while the heroine was to lie perdue in the high-backed chair; and when, at the fated moment, all this punctually occurred, one could scarcely repress an "Ah!" of sarcastic satisfaction. Similarly, in an able play named Mr. and Mrs. Daventry, Mr.
Leger, near Daventry, in Northamptonshire, is the gate-house of the ancient manor of the Catesbys, of whom Robert Catesby was the contriver of the Gunpowder Plot.
He opened the second. It was from Bruce Evelin. "May you be a happy warrior. Dion read it more than once, and his lips quivered for a second. He shot a glance at Worthington, and said, rather bruskly: "Beatrice and Guy Daventry and Bruce Evelin!" Worthington gave a little faint nod in the direction of the telegram that was still unopened. "Your mater!" "No; she wrote to me.
Chetwinde. "Of course, with pleasure." "Your Rosamund ?" Her eyes were on him for a moment. "She won't expect me at any particular time." "Mr. Daventry can come too." Dion never forgot their difficult exit from the court.
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