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Updated: May 19, 2025
Mark Shrewsbury found it less pleasing in reality than in his visions during the dinner- party at Dulminster. True, his chambers were comfortable, and his type- writer was as invaluable a machine as ever, and his novel was drawing to a successful conclusion; but though all these things were calculated to cheer him, he was nevertheless depressed.
One hot afternoon, on waking from a comfortable nap in the depths of an armchair at the Club, Shrewsbury was greeted by one of his friends. "I thought you were in Switzerland, old fellow!" he exclaimed, yawning and stretching himself. "Came back yesterday awfully bad season confoundedly dull," returned the other. "Where have you been?" "Down with Warren near Dulminster. Deathly dull hole."
I saw Lena Houghton, and Mr. Blackthorne, and Mrs. Milton-Cleave, kneeling in church on that Friday morning, praying that pity might be shown "upon all prisoners and captives, and all that are desolate or oppressed." It never occurred to them that they were responsible for the sufferings of one weary prisoner, or that his death would be laid at their door. I flew to Dulminster, and saw Mrs.
But while he basked in his new happiness I travelled in my close stuffy envelope to Dulminster, and after having been tossed in and out of bags, shuffled, stamped, thumped, tied up, and generally shaken about, I arrived one morning at Dulminster Archdeaconry, and was laid on the breakfast table among other appetising things to greet Mrs. Selldon when she came downstairs.
But one is always so pressed for time just before the long vacation, and yesterday I was quite exhausted. Did you see any of my people?" "Yes," said Mary, "Eve was there; we expected her to play. It is a very musical house." "Ah, yes! I have heard so from my sister, and from Colonel Lightmark. He says that Lady Dulminster is really a most accomplished woman."
But I was glad to see her take up her pen, for I knew I should come in most conveniently to fill up the second side of the sheet. Before long Jane Stiggins, the member who had migrated from Muddleton to Dulminster, had been duly reported, wound up, and made over to the Archdeacon's wife. Then the tired hand paused. What more could she say to her friend?
Presently he noticed that Lady Dulminster had arrived, and he made his way across the room to meet her with a quite youthful bashfulness, cannoning apologetically against Romeos and Marguerites, hoping that she would like his uniform. There was one person, at least, in the room who made no attempt to assure herself that she was enjoying the vivid gaiety of these parti-coloured revels.
"Dear me," she exclaimed, throwing aside the newspaper she had just taken up, "I ought to write to Mrs. Selldon at Dulminster about that G.F.S. girl!" As a matter of fact she ought not to have written then, the letter might well have waited till the morning, and she was over-tired and needed rest.
Sylvester and her daughter for their anteprandial drive in the Park, and expressing their regret that they had not seen Charles, uncle and nephew took their leave together. "Dick, my boy," said the colonel, when they were safely in the street, "you must come and dine with me. Not tonight; I am going to take Lady Dulminster to the French play.
No; I was sorry because I had to hurt you. But it was best, my dear, because you are so strong. Yes, you are strong, Mary!" "Am I?" said the girl wearily. "What is the good of it, I wonder? Except that it makes one suffer more and longer." "No," said Lady Garnett. "It makes one show it less, and only that matters. Aren't we going to Lady Dulminster to-night?
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