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Updated: May 4, 2025
Her musing air was soon changed to one of surprise, by the following remark of her companion: "You appear, Miss Henley," he said, "to be sensitively alive to the ailings of all you know but me." "I did not know that you were ill, Mr. Delafield! Really, sir, I never met with any gentleman's looks which so belied him, if you are otherwise than both well and happy."
Jacob Delafield, too. There also it was no less clear to her than to Sir Wilfrid that she had "overdone it." It was true, then, what Lady Henry said of her that she had an overmastering tendency to intrigue to a perpetual tampering with the plain fact?
"I should think not," J.W. commented, "if you try to run everything. Mr. Drury always seems to have lots of time, just because he makes the rest of us run the works in Delafield First." "Oh, he does, does he?" said Marty, shortly, who knew something of the older minister's strategy. "That's according to how you look at it. I'm not above learning from him, and I don't run everything, either.
Delafield, if you wish to apprise him of his good fortune, you have only to attend my music party to-morrow evening, and I will take particular care that you get acquainted with the humane hero." The invitation was gladly accepted, and the gentleman took his leave at the door of the house.
From those blue eyes of his there shot out upon her one piercing glance manly, entreating, sad. He lifted his hat and was gone. "Jacob, what brings you back so soon?" The Duchess ran into the room, a trim little figure in her morning dress of blue-and-white cloth, with her small spitz leaping beside her. Delafield advanced.
He was like a woman, inasmuch as he could not keep away from his failures. "Are you advanced, Miss Delafield?" he asked, with his deferential little bow. "Are you modern?" "I am neither; I have no desire for even the cheapest form of notoriety. Why do you ask?" replied Maggie. "I was merely wondering whether we were to count you among our rifles to-morrow.
When J.W. was six, going on seven, the family moved to Delafield, though retaining ownership of the farm, and for years J.W. spent nearly every Saturday on the old place, in free and blissful association with the Shenk children, whose father was the tenant.
The young man bowed with a mortified air, and was somewhat ungraciously beginning to make a polite reply, when the door opened a short space, and the voice of Miss Osgood was once more heard, saying in a forced, but lively manner "I never was better in my life; I shall run into Mrs. Morton's for ten minutes; let me find you here, Mr. Delafield, when I return."
But this won't do it, my dear!" "You've no idea how badly Ross feels!" said Madeline. "Mrs. Delafield dropped in just now and told us. You ought to have seen him!" "He didn't believe it of course," Adeline put in. "And he wouldn't say a thing not a thing to blame you." "We said we'd come over right off and tried to bring him but he said he'd got to go back to the store," Coraline explained.
"No, no. Sunday, certainly honor bright. Oh, I think we shall straighten it out." Delafield ran down the stairs, and Sir Wilfrid returned to his warm room and the dregs of his tea. "Now is he in love with her, and hesitating for social reasons? Or is he jealous of this fellow Warkworth? Or has she snubbed him, and both are keeping it dark? Not very likely, that, in view of his prospects.
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