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Updated: May 7, 2025
This led to a discussion of the subject, which was summarily ended by Mr. Frayling, who deputed to his wife the task of answering the letter, without allowing her any choice in the matter. It was never his way to do anything disagreeable if he could insist upon her doing it for him. But Mrs. Frayling was nothing loth upon this occasion.
"And I am quite inclined to come to terms with her, for I don't care much myself for a young lady who gets into hysterics about things that other women think nothing of." "Oh, don't say think nothing of, George," Mrs. Frayling deprecated. "We lament and deplore, but we forgive and endure." "It comes to the same thing," said Major Colquhoun.
And what good have you done by it all, I should like to know? When you might have done so much, too." Mrs. Frayling paused here, and Evadne looked up at the cathedral again, feeling for her pitifully. This new view of her mother was another terrible disillusion, and the more the poor lady exposed herself, the greater Evadne felt was the claim she had upon her filial tenderness.
Evadne was then in her eighteenth year, but not yet out. Mrs. Orton Beg was a sister of Mrs. Frayling's and an oracle to Evadne. Mrs. Frayling was fair, plump, sweet, yielding, commonplace, prolific; Mrs. Orton Beg was a barren widow, slender, sincere, silent, firm, and tender. Mrs. Frayling, for lack of insight, was unsympathetic, Mrs.
Frayling received this letter, she wrote a hurried note to Evadne, saying that she did think her husband unreasonable, and also that he had no right to separate her from any of her children, and that therefore she should write to Evadne as often as she liked, but without letting him know it. She thought his injustice quite justified such tactics; but Evadne answered, "No!"
One of the many things it would never occur to you to confide to Mrs. Frayling?" he said, trying to treat her evident emotion lightly, to laugh it off. "To Henrietta? Of course not. It would be unpardonable, hateful to tell Henrietta." She flushed, her face looking, for the moment, dark from excess of colour. "You are the only person I could possibly tell." Carteret moved aside a few steps.
She says men have agreed to accept Christ as an example of what a man should be, and asserts that therefore they must feel in themselves that they could live up to his standard if they chose." "There now!" Mr, Frayling exclaimed triumphantly. "That is just what I said. A Christlike man, indeed! What absurdity will women want next? I don't know what to advise, Colquhoun. I really don't."
"If she had been that kind of girl she would not have objected to Colonel Colquhoun; and at any rate she has every right to as much of your charity as you give him." "Women are different," Mr. Frayling ventured feebly. "Are they?" said Mrs.
She went across the sparse turf, starred with tiny clear, coloured flowers, her face stern, for all its youthful bloom and softness, her eyes meditative and profound. The owner of the log-built restaurant, a thick-set, grizzled veteran of the Franco-Prussian war, the breast of his rusty velveteen jacket proudly bearing a row of medals, stood talking to Mrs. Frayling, hat in hand.
That gentleman, whose avaricious pale grey eye belied the extreme silkiness of his manner having been called to minister to Lady Hermione Twells in respect of some minor ailment elected to put in the overtime, between two trains, in a visit to General Frayling.
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