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Updated: May 27, 2025
This Act not to extend to the woods of Christopher Durrell, in the parish of Newdigate, within the weald of Surrey, which woods have been coppiced by him for the use of his iron works in those parts." When the woods of the kingdom began to be exhausted, attention was turned to pit coal, which had long been in use for fuel in the counties where it was plentifully found. This Mr.
We were, indeed, a little behind the others for when we stumbled into the Ellis Durrell house we found a crowd of merry folks clustered about the kitchen stove. Mrs. Ellis flattered me by saying, "The young people are expecting you over at Joe's." Here she laughed, "I'm afraid they are going to dance."
"He's looking ripping, isn't he, Lady Durrell? I met old Oldfield the other day, and he was raving about your case. The thing has never been done before. Says they're going mad over your chap in Paris they've given him medals and wreaths and decorations till he goes about like a prize bull at a fair. By Jove, it's good to see you again."
The door opened, and there, to my utter amazement, stood Dale Kynnersley Dale, sleek, alert, smiling, attired in the very latest nicety of evening dress affected by contemporary youth Dale such as I knew and loved but six months ago. He came forward to Agatha, who was little less astounded than myself. "How d'ye do, Lady Durrell? I'm in the stalls with Harry Essendale.
We exchanged the family kiss and the usual incoherent greetings of our race. She expressed her delight at my restoration to health and gave me satisfactory tidings of Tom Durrell, her husband, of the children, and of our sister Jane. Then she shook her head at me, and made me feel like a naughty little boy. This I resented.
He turned to me. "Do you?" The last thing on earth I desired to behold at that moment was a performing animal. My sensitiveness led me to suspect a quizzical look in Dale's eye. Fortunately, he did not wait for my answer, but went on in a boyish attempt to appease Agatha. "I don't despise them, you know, Lady Durrell, but I've seen them twice before. They're really rather good.
The next afternoon, Willow was at the Depresso before him, absorbed in a paperback. "Hi, there," Patrick said. She looked up and smiled. "Hi, Patrick. I brought my largest handkerchief." "What are you reading?" "Balthazar, by Lawrence Durrell." "I saw you go by with Martin, yesterday." "Oh, yeah. Martin took me for a drive and showed me his studio. He has been making recordings."
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