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Updated: May 22, 2025
Lord Saxingham was in his own apartment, deeply and noisily affected; for it was not thought that Florence could survive the night. Maltravers sat himself quietly down. Before him, on a table, lay several manuscript books, gaily and gorgeously bound; he mechanically opened them. Florence's fair, noble Italian characters met his eye in every page.
When he did not return at the usual hour, neither Florence nor Mrs. O'Keefe was particularly disturbed. It was thought that he had gone on some errand of unusual length, and would return an hour or two late. Eight o'clock came, the hour at which the boy was accustomed to repair to Florence's room to study, and still he didn't make his appearance. "Dodger's late this evening, Mrs.
But, after all, it's as true a side of life as Florence's successful dinner was; and every housekeeper must go through just such experiences, again and again. You are no more likely to fail the next time, because your dinner to-day wasn't a good one. It is only one of the unlucky days that we all must have." "You, mamma?" And Polly raised her head in wonder.
As she passed the girls, Rose opened her eyes very wide, and made a face expressive of dismay. "What's the matter?" whispered Clover. Rose only made another grimace, clawed with her fingers at Miss Barnes's back, and vanished down the entry which led to Mrs. Florence's room. They stood looking after her. "Oh, dear!" sighed Clover, "I'm so afraid Rose is in a scrape."
It turned, at first, on Florence's books and favourite pursuits, and on the manner in which she had beguiled the interval since the marriage. The last theme opened up to her a subject which lay very near her heart, and she said, with the tears starting to her eyes: 'Oh, Mama! I have had a great sorrow since that day. 'You a great sorrow, Florence! 'Yes. Poor Walter is drowned.
It went to pieces at the moment when Florence laid her hand upon Edward's wrist, as it lay on the glass sheltering the manuscript of the Protest, up in the high tower with the shutters where the sunlight here and there streamed in. Or, rather, it went when she noticed the look in Edward's eyes as he gazed back into Florence's. She knew that look.
He recognized Maltravers. They had not till then encountered since their meeting a few weeks before Florence's death; and a pang of conscience came across the schemer's cold heart. Years rolled away from the past; he recalled the young, generous, ardent man, whom, ere the character or career of either had been developed, he had called his friend.
'If I grow up, said Paul. Then he went on immediately to tell Mrs Pipchin all about the party, about Florence's invitation, about the pride he would have in the admiration that would be felt for her by all the boys, about their being so kind to him and fond of him, about his being so fond of them, and about his being so glad of it.
But nothing really happened during the month of July. On the 1st of August Florence apparently told her aunts that she intended to marry me. She had not told me so, but there was no doubt about the aunts, for, on that afternoon, Miss Florence Hurlbird, Senior, stopped me on my way to Florence's sitting-room and took me, agitatedly, into the parlour.
"What we say may be overheard and excite suspicion. One thing may be secured by finding him the knowledge of Florence's whereabouts." "What makes you think she and the boy are together?" "He came for her trunk. I was away from home, or I would not have let it go " "It is strange that they two are together, considering their relationship." "That is what I am afraid they will find out.
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