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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Most irregular. You must let us have the room, Miss Hugonin." In the hall she waited. Hope! ah, of course, there was no hope! the thin little whisper told her. By and bye, though after centuries of waiting the three men came into the hall. "Miss Hugonin," said Dr. Jeal, with a strange kindness in his voice, "I don't think we shall need you again.
Ensued a silence. Mr. Kennaston bowed his head. "You bid me go?" said he. "No not exactly," said she. He indicated a movement toward her. "Now, you needn't attempt to take any liberties with me," Miss Hugonin announced, decisively, "because if you do I'll never speak to you again. You must let me go now. You you must let me think." Then Felix Kennaston acted very wisely.
Kennaston, I think, in company with Miss Hugonin, at the precise moment she inquired of him whether it were not the strangest thing in the world referring thereby to the sudden manner in which she had been disinherited. The poet laughed and assented.
Nobody nobody," Miss Hugonin lamented, a forlorn little quiver in her voice, "ever seemed to be honest with me except you, and now I know you weren't. Oh, beautiful, aren't I ever to have any real friends?" she pleaded, wistfully. Kennaston had meant a deal to her, you see; he had been the one man she trusted.
You find me deep in meditation, and also, I am sorry to say, in the practise of a most pernicious habit. You do not object? Ah, that is so like you. You are always kind, Miss Hugonin.
Petheridge Jukesbury caught her as she fell, and began to blubber like a whipped schoolboy as he stood there holding her in his arms. But Billy was not dead. There was still a feeble, jerky fluttering in his big chest when Colonel Hugonin found him. His heart still moved, but under the Colonel's hand its stirrings were vague and aimless as those of a captive butterfly.
That Jeal person is a decided nuisance," said Miss Hugonin, as she stabbed her hat rather viciously with two hat-pins and then laid it aside on a table. Billy Woods was looking up at her forlornly. It hurt her to see the love and sorrow in his face.
Felix Kennaston cried, with a quick lift of speech, "impractical child that I am, I had not thought of that! My love had caused me to forget the great barrier that stands between us." He gasped and took a short turn about the court. "Pardon me, Miss Hugonin," he entreated, when his emotions were under a little better control, "for having spoken as I did. I had forgotten.
I suppose that's why she ain't cultured, Wilkins." And now let us go back a little. In a word, let us utilise the next twenty minutes during which Miss Hugonin drives to the neighbouring railway station, in, if you press me, not the most pleasant state of mind conceivable by explaining a thought more fully the posture of affairs at Selwoode on the May morning that starts our story.
"I suppose old people are right sometimes but, dear, dear, they're terribly unreasonable at others!" Having thus uttered the ancient, undying plaint of youth, Miss Hugonin moved a matter of two inches to the left, and smiled, and waited contentedly. It was barely possible some one might come that way; and it is always a comfort to know that one is not exactly repulsive in appearance.
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