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"It is not," she said, "according to the convenances. Mademoiselle is under my protection. I have not the honor of knowing you, Monsieur." Duncombe raised his eyebrows. "But you remember calling at my house in Norfolk, and bringing Miss Poynton away," he said. She stared at him calmly. "The matter," she said, "has escaped my memory.
Now, not another question, please, until you have tried that sauce. Absolute silence, if you please, for at least three or four minutes." Duncombe obeyed with an ill grace. He had little curiosity as to its flavor, and a very small appetite at all with the conversation in its present position. He waited for the stipulated time, however, and then leaned once more across the table. "Spencer!"
"Frank Charnock has done a good deal of hard work, and is not to lead the life of an idle man," said Captain Duncombe. "I know I should not like to be in his shoes if he succeeds grinding away in an office ten months out of the twelve." "In an office! I should like to set him to work with an axe!" "Well, those dainty-looking curled darlings don't do badly in the backwoods," said Lady Tyrrell.
He listened to Duncombe gravely, but without any visible discomfiture. There could not be anything very serious the matter, then. A note was put into his hand, which he read with absolute calmness under the eyes of the multitude. When he looked up from it, the colonel had reached his side. They exchanged a few words, and then Hone, smiling faintly, beckoned to the chaplain.
Duncombe was silent for several moments. There were many things which he could have said, but where was the use? "As a French gentleman, then," he said at last, "will you permit me to make a personal appeal to you? Miss Phyllis Poynton is a young lady in whom I am deeply interested. She was last seen at the Café Montmartre, from which place she disappeared. I am an Englishman of your own station.
The young man he was in the Foreign Office sighed, and shook his head. "Such things are not for me," he declared sententiously. "My affections are engaged." "That isn't the least reason why you shouldn't marry money," her ladyship declared, lighting a cigarette. "Go and talk to her!" "Can't spoil sport!" he answered, shaking his head. "By Jove! Duncombe is making the running, though, isn't he?"
It was evident that the old sailor was in earnest, and George Jernam did not attempt to overrule his determination. Rosamond pleaded against her father's departure, but she pleaded in vain. Early in June Captain Duncombe left England on board a neat little craft, which he christened the "Young Wife," in compliment to his daughter.
You wouldn't write me down as altogether a sentimental ass, would you?" "I should not, George. I should never even use the word 'sentimental' in connection with you." Duncombe turned and faced him squarely. He laid his hands upon his friend's shoulders. "Old man," he said, "here's the truth.
Sir S. Duncombe, predecessor to Duncombe Lord Feversham, and gentleman pensioner to King James and Charles I., introduced sedan-chairs into this country, anno 1634, when he procured a patent that vested in him and his heirs the sole right of carrying persons up and down in them for a certain sum.
Duncombe was perfectly quiet, not only from the subduing influence of all she had undergone, but because she felt herself there like an intruder, and would have refused, but that to leave her at home would have distressed her hostess. Mrs.
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