Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 8, 2025
He returned to Farringdean in the middle of January with one of his married sisters, whom he had secured to act as hostess to his party. He invited West to dine with them informally on the night of his return. His sister, Lady Cottesbrook, a gay and garrulous lady some years his senior, received the new agent with considerable condescension.
I'm going to get a certain good friend of mine to drive me all the way to Farringdean in his motor. It's Sunday, you know, and all the fates conspire to make the trains impossible." "How soon do you wish to start?" asked Babbacombe. "Right away!" laughed Cynthia. "And if we don't get run in for exceeding the speed limit, we ought to be there by seven."
He drove on through the undulating stretches of Farringdean Park, his favourite heritage, trying to realise what effect twelve years in a convict prison would have had upon himself, what his outlook would ultimately have become, and what in actual fact was the outlook and general attitude of the man who had come through this long purgatory.
It was as a matter of fact barely half-past six when Babbacombe turned the motor in at the great gates of Farringdean Park. A sound of church-bells came through the evening twilight. The trees of the avenue were still bare, but there was a misty suggestion of swelling buds in the saplings. The wind that softly rustled through them seemed to whisper a special secret to each.
Lady Cottesbrook was silenced. After a little she turned her attention to other matters, to her brother's evident relief. It was on a still, frosty evening of many stars that Cynthia came to Farringdean Castle. A young moon was low in the sky, and she paused to curtsey to it upon descending from the motor that had borne her thither. She turned to find Babbacombe beside her.
I am returning to my work at Farringdean for the present. I am aware that you may find some difficulty in putting your feelings in this matter into words. If so, I shall understand your silence. Yours, "Isn't he quaint?" said Cynthia, with a little gay grimace. "Now do you know what I'm going to do, Jack?
Word Of The Day
Others Looking