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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Adrian, I wish to talk to you seriously. What did you suppose I was referring to?" "To Gwen's distorted view of your humble servant a clear case of mistaken imagination. That, however, is a condition precedent of the position. Dan Cupid would be hard up, otherwise." "Dan Who?" "The little God of Love ... not Daniel Anybody! Wasn't that what the Earl meant?" "Not at all!
The Earl, seeing him thinking, and Gwen waiting for the outcome, came round from his end of the table, and took the seat the Countess had vacated. He ought to have been there before, but it seemed as though Gwen's escapade had thrown all formalities out of gear. He was just in time for the General's conclusion: "Give it up! Heaven only knows what I should do! Or anyone else!"
When I had administered this, Maitland and I talked the matter over and we decided to take her at once to my house, where, with Gwen, she could share the watchful care of my sister Alice. This we did, though I was not without some misgivings as to Gwen's attitude in the matter when she should recover sufficiently to know of it.
And here was the old lady trying to get up from her chair to summon Widow Thrale! Gwen detained her gently; as, having risen from the stool at her feet, she kneeled beside her. "No, no I am not ill.... I will tell you directly." Moments passed that, to Gwen's impatience for speech she could neither frame nor utter, might have been hours.
Watching her intently, she could see the critical moment when the new light broke. A moment later the hand she held clutched at hers beyond its strength, and its owner's voice was forcing its way through gasps. "But ... but ... but ... Widow Thrale's name is Ruth!" "Is Ruth." Yes leave the fact there, and wait! That was Gwen's decision. A moment later what she waited for had come.
"Why didn't you say so before?" he said, and, starting up, he passed into the house and took up his position behind Gwen's chair. Opposite, and leaning against the door, stood The Duke, with a look of quiet earnestness on his handsome face. At his side stood the Hon. Fred Ashley, and behind him the Old Timer, looking bewildered and woe-stricken.
That's what the General said when he pinned on Gwen's Mons Star 'Another of the ladies from Canada! They have taught you out there to put things through with a will! York Hill Old Girls look to York Hill present girls to maintain the record of the School." And if the applause meant anything, it surely stood for a determination on the part of her listeners to maintain the York Hill tradition.
Sprite's truthful eyes were looking straight into Gwen's bold blue ones. "Are you sure that happened?" she asked. "Well, what do you s'pose?" Gwen asked pertly, and then, without waiting for a reply she caught Sprite's hand and hurried with her into the great hall. "I brought you in here to show you the pictures," she said, pointing to the family portraits that adorned the walls.
He did not move, but said: "I suppose I ought to be thinking of turning in now, Mrs. Bailey?" "It isn't Mrs. Bailey," said the Earl. "It's me. Gwen's father." "God bless my soul!" exclaimed Adrian, starting back from the window. "I thought it was the good creature. I had given you up, Lord Ancester it got so late."
He was afraid to offend Gwen and yet unwilling to be cordial to her guest. The Pilot was quick to feel this, and, soon after tea, rose to go. Gwen's disappointment showed in her face. "Ask him to stay, dad," she said, in a whisper. But the half-hearted invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined to set off.
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