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I unfolded my scheme of living with Hildreth in a Jersey bungalow ... Derek's income to me would go on a while yet ... I could sell stories and poems to the New York magazines ... Hildreth could write a book as well as I ... we would become to the modern world an example of the radical love-life ... the Godwin and Wollstonecraft of the age. We ate supper together, the three of us, in the flat.
If you ask my opinion, Miss Mariner's a long sight too good for her precious son!" "Oh, but Horace! Sir Derek's a baronet!" "What of it? Kind 'earts are more than coronets and simple faith than Norman blood, aren't they?" "You're talking Socialism, Horace." "No, I'm not. I'm talking sense.
To this growth not only her custom of putting the best face on things, but her incurable desire to make others happy, and an instinctive sympathy with love-affairs, all contributed; moreover, Felix had said something about Derek's having been concerned in something rash. If darling Nedda were there it would occupy his mind and help to make him careful.
Derek's long wait on the draughty platform had generated an irritability which overcame the deep-seated awe of his mother which was the result of years of defeat in battles of the will. "Let me tell you in a few words all that I know of Jill, and then we'll drop the subject. In the first place, she is a lady. Secondly, she has plenty of money . . ."
She turned quickly round again. "What's the matter? Do you know her? Somebody you don't want to meet?" "It's Lady Underhill! And Derek's with her!" Wally had been lifting his glass. He put it down rather suddenly. "Derek?" he said. "Derek Underhill. The man I'm engaged to marry." There was a moment's silence. "Oh!" said Wally thoughtfully. "The man you're engaged to marry? Yes, I see!"
Yes, she had money. She would say nothing, here, because, of course, he might refuse! At the back of her mind was the idea that, if a real newspaper took the part of the laborers, Derek's position would no longer be so dangerous; he would be, as it were, legally recognized, and that, in itself, would make him more careful and responsible.
The visits of the postman were welcomed as affording the additional task of arranging Derek's letters on the desk in the small, book-lined room specially devoted to his use; and when, in the evening, a cablegram arrived, Diane herself propped it in a conspicuous place, with a tiny silver dagger, for opening the envelope, beside it.
"The cab is at the door, Sir Derek," said Parker. Derek addressed an envelope, and got up. "All right. Thanks. Oh, Parker, stop at a district-messenger office on your way to the police-station, and have this sent off at once." "Very good, Sir Derek," said Parker. Derek's eyes turned once more to the mantelpiece. He stood looking for an instant, then walked quickly out of the room.
Frances Freeland, in the window, wasted no thoughts, but began to run over in her mind the exact operations necessary to defeat this illness of darling Derek's. Her fingers continually locked and interlocked themselves with fresh determinations; her eyes, fixed on imaginary foods, methods of washing, and ways of keeping him quiet, had an almost fanatical intensity.
All 'the world' goes out of town, and 'London's empty! But if you weren't told so you'd never know the difference." Derek muttered: "I think it shows more than that." Under the table Flora was touching John's foot warningly; Nedda attempting to touch Derek's; Felix endeavoring to catch John's eye; Alan trying to catch Sheila's; John biting his lip and looking carefully at nothing.
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