United States or Dominica ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Gwenda closed the lid of the trunk and sat on it. "You can't, Gwenda. Papa'll never let you go." "He can't stop me." "What on earth are you going for?" "Not for my own amusement, though it sounds amusing." "Does Mummy want you?" "Whether she wants me or not, she's got to have me." "For how long?" "I don't know. I'm going to get something to do." "To do?"
Do yo' aassk mae t' marry Assy now? Naw! Assy may rot for all yo' care. But do yo' suppawss I'd 'a' doon it fer yore meddlin'? Naw! "You are not going to be asked," said Gwenda. "You are not going to marry her." "Gwenda," said the Vicar, "you will be good enough to leave this to me." "It can't be left to anybody but Ally." "It s'all be laft to her," said Greatorex.
It would happen when she had come to the last arch of the colonnade. It was happening now. She had come to the last arch. That instant she was aware of Rowcliffe and Gwenda coming toward her down the hill. Their figures were almost indiscernible in the twilight. It was by their voices that she knew them. Before they could see her she had slipped out of their path behind the shelter of the arch.
And on the road to Upthorne, under the arches by the sinister towers, Alice Cartaret, crouching on her stone, sobbed and shivered. Not long after seven Essy's child was born. Just before ten the three sisters sat waiting, as they had always waited, bored and motionless, for the imminent catastrophe of Prayers. "I wonder how Essy's getting on," said Gwenda. "Poor little Essy!" Mary said.
My two sons are gone over the nest, whatever; but Ann is stopping with me, She is the home-bird." Gwenda thought she had never enjoyed such a tea. The tea cakes so light, the brown bread so delicious; and Ann, with her quiet manners, made a perfect hostess; so that, when she rose to go, she was as reluctant to leave the old farmhouse as her entertainers were to lose her.
It was Gwenda all the time who let me in." Mary had a little rush of affection. "My dear I think I've let you in for everything. I wouldn't mind I wouldn't really if it wasn't for you." "You needn't bother about me," he said. "I'd rather you bothered about your sister." "Which sister?" For the life of her she could not tell what had made her say that.
Trevor proposed a stroll through the conservatories, and while the elders stopped to admire a fern or a rare exotic, Will and Gwenda roamed on under the palms and greenery to where a sparkling fountain rose, and flung its feathery spray into the air. "Will you sit down?" said Will, pointing to a seat which stood invitingly near. "You must be tired after your long walk." "Tired?
You've been thinking of yourselves. You might have killed her. And you didn't care." The Vicar looked at her. "It's you, Gwenda, who don't care." "About what she's done, you mean? I don't. You ought to be gentle with her, Papa. You drove her to it." Rowcliffe answered. "We'll not say what drove her, Gwenda." "She was driven," she said.
Of Rowcliffe it was said that maybe he'd been tempted, but he was a good man, was Dr. Rowcliffe, and he'd stopped in time. Because they didn't know what Gwenda Cartaret was capable of, they believed, like the Vicar, that she was capable of anything. It was only in her own village that they knew. The head gamekeeper had never told his tale in Garth. It would have made him too unpopular.
Suddenly she passed from a violent fit of writhing and of weeping into blank and motionless collapses. From time to time she hiccoughed helplessly. But in the moment before Mary came downstairs Gwenda had slipped on the rough coat that hung on its peg in the passage. Her hat was lying about somewhere in the room where Alice had locked herself in. She went out bareheaded.
Word Of The Day