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Updated: June 15, 2025
For the same reason, perhaps, she had long since stopped the flow of sentimental letters from the girl-friends she had once possessed in Holsworthy, Devon.
There is a fine stretch of sands protecting the Bude shores, but the background of these sands is cliff. It was this sand that made one of the chief uses of the canal from Bude to Holsworthy, now superseded by the railway; containing a large proportion of lime, it is valuable for agricultural purposes.
"I mind Mrs Bosenna well," said Captain Cai, rising as the barber unwrapped him; "a smallish well-featured body, with eyes like bullace plums." "Ay, an' young enough to ha' been old Bosenna's daughter a penniless maid from Holsworthy in Devon, as I've heard; an' now she's left there, up to Rilla, happy as a mouse in cheese.
I imagined, indeed, that I detected in the gesture a faint touch of half-unconscious proprietorship. "Good-morning, Hubert," she said, taking my hand, but turning towards the tall young man. "I don't think you know Mr. Cecil Holsworthy." "I have heard you speak of him," I answered, drinking him in with my glance. I added internally, "Not half good enough for you."
"Look here, Hilda," she said, a little tremulously, biting her lip, "I have to go out into Westbourne Grove to get those gloves for to-night, and a spray for my hair; will you excuse me for half an hour?" Holsworthy rose too. "Mayn't I go with you?" he asked, eagerly. "Oh, if you like. How very kind of you!" Daphne answered, her cheek a blush rose. "Hubert, will you come too? and you, Hilda?"
Sissie was a minx, as Hilda rightly judged; while as for Nettlecraft well, if a public school and an English university leave a man a cad, a cad he will be, and there is nothing more to be said about it. I went straight off with the letters to Cecil Holsworthy.
The old lady half rose. "Let me see," she said, staring at me. "WHICH is Mr. Holsworthy, Siss? is it Cecil or Reggie?" One of the chappies burst into a fatuous laugh once more at this remark. "Now, you're giving away the whole show, Mrs. Montague!" he exclaimed, with a chuckle. A look from Miss Sissie immediately checked him.
Now " she let her voice trail off reflectively as her eyes wandered past Captain Cai and rested on the tree-tops in the valley "if I was asked to name my bo ideal of an English gentleman and the foreigners can't come near it, you needn't tell me 'twould be Sir Brampton Goldsworthy, Bart., of Halberton Court, Devon." "Ma'am?" "That's close to Holsworthy, where I was brought up.
"She has just run out into Westbourne Grove to get some gloves and a flower for the fete this evening," Hilda answered. Then she added, significantly, "Mr. Holsworthy has gone with her." "What? That boy's been here again?" "Yes, Lady Tepping. He called to see Daphne." My aunt turned to me with an aggrieved tone.
'Goldsworthy of Holsworthy' he liked to be known as, dropping the 'Sir': and he always wore a top hat, rather flat in the brim. But he'd off with it to anything in woman's shape. . . . And that's what women value. Respect. . . . It isn't a man's age " She broke off and half closed her eyes in reverie. "And so particular, too, about his body-linen! Always a high stock collar . . . and his cuffs!"
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