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Updated: June 14, 2025
I do not want the pity of Robert Gwynne's son any more than you want to be pitied by the daughter of Rachel Carter. We stand on even terms. I just want you to know that my heart is as stout as yours and that my pride is as strong." He bowed his head. "All my life I have thought of my father as a Samson who was betrayed by a Delilah.
She turned to Gwynne, her eyes flashing dramatically; she was tired of being chorus to her popular husband's leading rôles, and was determined to hold the centre of the stage for Gwynne's edification at least. "They pretend to come here because the dinner is so good!" she exclaimed. "Good and cheap! But it isn't that a bit with the swells the women, that is.
Gwynne's farewell, as she bestowed on Olive one of her rare embraces. And then the parting was over. Closing her eyes her heart; striving to make her thoughts a blank, and to shut out everything save the welcome sense of blind exhaustion that was creeping over her, Olive lay back in the carriage, and was whirled from Harbury.
She appropriated Gwynne's writing materials and took what appeared to be copious notes. The host suddenly excused himself and came within. "Won't you have tea?" he demanded. "It is rather early, but after that drive " "Much too early," said Isabel, absently. Her chin was on her hand, her eyes were on a spotted page. "Mariana is sure to be asleep. Do go back to Dolly.
They walked for some time in perfect silence. Troubled thoughts were careering like storm-clouds over Olive's spirit. Wonder was there, and pity, and an indefined dread. As she leaned on Mr. Gwynne's arm, she had a presentiment that in the heart whose strong beating she could almost feel, was prisoned some great secret of woe or wrong, before which she herself would stand aghast.
Hofer responded with a shout, the automobile slowed slightly, two men stood up and clutched Gwynne, dragging him into the machine. Gwynne's long legs flew backward as if he were plunging head first over an embankment, and he had only time to right himself, turn and shout "Go home," before the automobile had regained its speed and was out of sight. Victoria turned to Isabel with wide eyes.
I mean " in response to Gwynne's look of astonishment, "of course I should hate to lose you quite as much as I hated to lose my own son, and yours is the only society in which I have found any positive refreshment for years. But well! in fact it would be as well for you to leave Rosewater for a while until all this talk has died out." "What talk?"
'You cannot believe it, Mrs Prothero. That girl Gladys would no more run away with any man living than I would. If Mr Prothero won't send after her I will. Where is he? 'Shall I send and tell him you want to speak to him? 'By all means directly. Mr Prothero was soon in the house again, at Miss Gwynne's bidding. He looked more than usually red and excited.
They were rather a formal quartette, and at first conversation did not flow easily. Mr Gwynne's nerves, Rowland's embarrassment Miss Hall's natural depression of spirits, and Freda's resolution not to make herself agreeable to a person she was determined to consider conceited, were bad ingredients for a dish of good sociable converse. By degrees, however, they thawed a little.
"Real happiness may lie in forgetting that love is selfish, and in overlooking the bitter in the sweet." Isabel shrugged her shoulders. "If one can be happy without love why run the risks?" They felt that they had exhausted the subject for the present and there was a long silence. Gwynne's eyes wandered over the inexpressibly desolate and sinister landscape.
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