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Updated: June 18, 2025
Cephyse was intelligent, active, clever, but different to her sister; she had the lively, alert, hoydenish character which requires air, exercise and pleasures a good girl enough, but foolishly spoiled by her mother. Cephyse, listening at first to Frances's good advice, resigned herself to her lot; and, having learnt to sew, worked like her sister, for about a year.
Her tongue is self acting. But she had no reason to do so save in her imagination and her love of talking. Half the troubles in life are caused by your automatic talkers." I then told him of my cousin's visit with Nelly to the Old Swan, laying emphasis on Frances's refusal to recognize Hamilton, but saying nothing of the fight that followed.
"It is you who grant the favor, and, without more ado, I heartily welcome you to our family." Thus, almost before she knew it, Frances's beauty had won, as we had been sure it would, and she was a maid of honor in Whitehall Palace to her Grace, the Duchess of York, sister-in-law to the king.
And before July was out three others were added to the garden group: Bartholomew and Vera and Veronica. And after them a fourth, Vera's friend, Captain Ferdinand Cameron, home on sick leave before anybody expected him. Frances's tree of Heaven sheltered them all. Bartholomew, Anthony's brother, lived in Bombay and looked after his business for him in the East.
Her own minister at home that is to say, the minister of the fashionable uptown church which she attended was a portly, dignified old man with silvery hair and gold-rimmed glasses, who preached scholarly, cultured sermons and was as far removed from Frances's personal life as a star in the Milky Way.
"How can you say perhaps Frances loves you? Loves you! She is breaking her heart for you. Oh! I could cry when I think of Frances's pain!" "Dear little friend!" said Arnold. "Then if that is so God grant it, oh, God grant it Frances and I must turn to you to help us." Fluff's face brightened. "I will tell you my plan," she said. "But first of all you must answer me a question." "What is it?
One day Jacky Hart died drifted out with the ebb tide, holding Frances's hand. She had loved the patient, sweet-souled little creature and missed him greatly. When the time to go home came Frances felt dull. She hated to leave Windy Meadows and Corona and her dear shore people and Aunt Eleanor and and well, Margaret Ann Peabody. Elliott Sherwood came up the night before she went away.
You might read to me for an hour before I go to bed, Frances; unless, indeed, you have anything more to say about Fluff, dear little soul! Do you know, it occurred to me that we ought to get fresh curtains and knickknacks for her room? It ought to look nice for her, dear, bright little thing!" "So it shall, father." There was no shade of impatience in Frances's tone.
His Majesty accused Frances of falsehood in having told him that she had not seen Hamilton and that she believed he was in France, but she becoming indignant, he again apologized. Frances's account of the king's state of mind alarmed me, and I determined to see George as soon as possible and advise him to leave England at once.
The squire was alone; even the irritating strain of "Sweethearts" no longer annoyed him. Fluff had ceased to play Fluff's gay little figure was no longer visible; the man who had paced up and down under the distant trees had disappeared; Frances's gray dress was nowhere to be seen. The whole place was still, oppressively still not a bee hummed, not a bird sung.
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