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Updated: May 10, 2025
So as nobody seemed so willing to own Cecil's claims to county supremacy as Lady Tyrrell, her bias was all towards Sirenwood; and whereas such practices as prevailed at Dunstone evidently were viewed as obsolete and narrow by these new friends, Cecil was willing to prove herself superior to them, and was far more irritated than convinced when her husband appealed to her former habits.
But if I have exceeded the Dunstone standard, it was not willingly. Herbert Bowater is the son of some old friends of my mother's, who wanted to keep their son near home, and made it their request that I would give him a title." "And the Bowaters are the great feature in the neighbourhood," added Frank. "Herbert tells me there are wonderful designs for entertaining the brides."
Frank and Charlie gave their account of the condition of the game. "Do you let your tenants shoot rabbits?" exclaimed Cecil, as if scandalized. "We never do at Dunstone." "It prevents an immense amount of discontent and ill-will and underhand work," said Raymond. "My father never will listen to any nonsense about rabbits," proceeded Cecil.
Gladly yes, she was glad to leave Dunstone. She had gone home weary and sick of her lodging and convalescence, and hoping to find relief in the home that had once been all-sufficient for her, but Dunstone was not changed, and she was.
The stiffness melted, the eyes softened and sparkled, the lips parted in soft agitated smiles, the cheeks learnt to blush, and Cecil was absolutely and thoroughly in love! Yes, she had found her heart and was won won in spite of the Dunstone dislike to the beggarly title in spite of Miles's well- considered cautions in spite of all her original self.
It is one of those things that make a man extend his arm and twiddle his fingers, and say, blinking, "Like that, you know." So do not imagine for one moment that this is a shallow story, simply because it is painted, so to speak, not in heart's blood but in table claret. Dunstone was a strong, quiet kind of man a man of conspicuous mediocrity, and rising rapidly, therefore, in his profession.
Hang Dunstone! was with some difficulty suppressed; but in an extra gentle voice Raymond said, "Your father did what he thought his duty, but I do not think it mine, nor yours, to direct Julius in clerical matters. It can only lead to disputes, and I will not have them." "It is Rosamond. I'm sure I don't dispute." "Listen, Cecil!" he said.
Poynsett; and I have seen whist at Dunstone when any dull old person came there. What a troublesome crooked hand Julius writes just like Greek! What's all this? So many services four on Sunday, two every day, three on Wednesdays and Fridays! We never had anything like this at Dunstone." "It is very superstitious," said Anne. "Very superfluous, I should say," amended Cecil.
The story of Dunstone is so slight, so trivial in its cardinal incidents, such a business of cheap feathers and bits of ribbon on the surface, that I should hesitate to tell it, were it not for its Inwardness, what one might call the symbolism of the thing. Frankly, I do not clearly see what that symbolism is, but I feel it hovering in some indefinable way whenever I recall his case.
"What bet will you take that a new one will be the first thing subscribed for?" said the deacon, bringing a certain grave look on the faces of both the elder clergy, and a horror-stricken one upon Anne's; while Cecil pronounced her inevitable dictum, that at Dunstone Mr. Venn always preached in a gown, and "we" should never let him think of anything nonsensical.
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