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Updated: June 11, 2025
An explanation of this readily occurred to her: Dymes calculated upon bringing her to an interview. She thought of Harvey's proposal, and wished she could dare to accept it; but the obscure risks were too great. So, months elapsed, till the affair seemed forgotten. They never spoke to each other of Hugh Carnaby or of Sibyl. Meanwhile, Alma did not lack society. Mrs.
The items astonished her. 'You mean to say, then, that I am in your debt for a hundred and thirty pounds? 'Debt be hanged! cried Dymes magnanimously. 'That's all done with, long ago. I only wanted to explain how things were. Alma reddened. She was trying to remember the state of her banking account, and felt sure that, at this moment, considerably less than a hundred pounds stood to her credit.
She succeeded in doing so, and Dymes raised his humming to a sentimental roar, and was vastly pleased with himself. 'I like to see you in a place like this, he said. 'Looks more business-like as if you really meant to do something. Do you live here alone? 'With a friend.
There might be someone at the house in Porchester Terrace who could help her to discover its late tenant. However dangerous the woman's wiles and slanders, an interview with her could do no harm, and might set at rest a curiosity long lurking, now feverishly stimulated. With regard to Sibyl, there could be little doubt that Dymes had heard, or conjectured, the truth.
'But I really haven't time now. 'And you forgive me my idiotics? She nodded and was gone. In the afternoon she met Dymes at Mrs. Littlestone's, a house of much society, for the most part theatrical. When they had moved aside for private talk, he began by asking a brusque question. 'Who got that notice for you into the West End? 'Why, didn't you? 'Know nothing about it. Come, who was it?
For Alma was not like Sibyl Carnaby in perpetual regard for personal finish; she dressed carelessly, save when the occasion demanded pains; she liked the ease of gowns and slippers, of loose hair and free throat; and this taste had grown upon her during the past months. But she did not keep Mr. Dymes waiting very long, and on her entrance he gazed at her with very frank admiration.
So disturbed were her thoughts that she did not notice how oddly Dymes was regarding her, and his next words sounded meaningless. 'By-the-bye, can we talk here? 'Talk ? 'I mean' he lowered his voice 'are we safe from interruption? It's all right; don't look frightened. The fact is, I want to speak of something rather awkward but it's something you ought to know about, if you don't already.
'Indeed, I don't think you have, replied Alma, putting severe restraint upon herself to speak calmly. Thereupon she left the room. Harvey rose to follow her. He took a step forward stood still returned to his chair. And they did not see each other again that night. In the morning came a letter from Dymes. He wrote that a certain newspaper wished for an 'interview' with Mrs.
Morphew already has a wife. I should be guilty of a crime if I married him. With a desperate ejaculation, Rolfe crushed up the sheet of paper, and turned to other things. Whilst she was at Greystone, Alma heard again from Felix Dymes, his letter having been forwarded. He wrote that Mrs.
When this was done, Alma made known what Dymes had told her about Sibyl, speaking in an unconcerned voice, and refraining from any hint of suspicion or censure. 'I had heard of it, said Harvey, with troubled brow, and evidently wished to say no more. 'What do you suppose Mr. Carnaby will do? Alma inquired. 'Impossible to say.
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