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Updated: June 12, 2025
Denyer, Barbara, and Zillah were standing in conversation about some photographs that had this morning come by post. "This one isn't at all like you, my dear," said Mrs. Denyer, with emphasis, to her eldest girl. "The other is passable, but I wouldn't have any of these." "Well, of course I am no judge," replied Barbara, "but I can't agree with you. I much prefer this one." Mr.
When he had occasion to speak, his Italian was fluent and to the point; he conducted himself as one to whom travel and intercourse with every variety of men were life-long habits. His business conducted him to the Mergellina, to the house of Mrs. Gluck, where he inquired for Mrs. Denyer. He was led upstairs, and into the room where sit Mrs. Denyer and her daughters.
It all depends on on uncertain things." "You won't come out with me to Vera Cruz?" said Mr. Denyer, jocosely. "No; I am a man of the old world. I must live in the atmosphere of art, or I don't care to live at all." Madeline's slight suspicion was confirmed. When they were about to leave the restaurant, Mr. Denyer said that he must go to the railway-station, to make a few inquiries.
But it is too certain that we no longer live on the old terms." They avoided each other's eyes, and after a long silence left the room without again speaking. "There!" said Mrs. Denyer, laying money on the table. "There are your wages, up to the end of April notwithstanding your impertinence to me this morning, you see. Once more I forgive you.
It had hardly been fashionable since the time of Tiberius, but Lord Denyer went there, accompanied by his French chef, and a dozen other servants, and roughed it in a native hotel; while Lady Denyer wintered at the family seat among the hills near Bath, and gave herself over to Low Church devotion, and works of benevolence.
It had happened, too, that when some one came and knocked at her door during the day, she vouchsafed no answer, and yet made the sound of moving about, as if to show that she did not choose to be disturbed, for whatever reason. The household went its regular way. Mrs. Denyer sat in her wonted idle dignity, or scolded the hard-driven maid-of-all-work, or quarrelled fiercely with Barbara.
Lady Denyer stood a little way in advance of the group on the hearthrug, fanning herself, with her eye on the door, while she listened languidly to the remarks of a youthful diplomatist, a sprig of a lordly tree, upon the last début at Her Majesty's Theatre. 'My own idea was that she screamed, said her ladyship. 'But the new Rosinas generally do scream.
Denyer that the English artist who was looked for had just arrived, and would in a few minutes join the company. "Mr. Marsh is here," said Mrs. Denyer aloud to her daughters, in a tone of no particular satisfaction. Madeline glanced at Miss Doran, who, however, did not seem to have heard the remark. And, whilst the guests were still busy with their soup, Mr. Clifford Marsh presented himself.
Within the doorway he stood for a moment surveying the room; with placid eye he selected Mrs. Denyer, and approached her just to shake hands; her three daughters received from him the same attention. Words Mr. Marsh had none, but he smiled as smiles the man conscious of attracting merited observation. Indeed, it was impossible not to regard Mr. Marsh with curiosity.
Lord Denyer was an important personage in the political and diplomatic world. He had been ambassador at Constantinople and at Paris, and had now retired on his laurels, an influence still, but no longer an active power in the machine of government. At his house gathered all that was most brilliant in London society.
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