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Updated: June 1, 2025
We will omit, by your leave, a number of picturesque descriptive passages for the Colonel is, on occasion, a man of unfettered speech and come hastily to the conclusion, to the summing-up of the whole matter. "Altogether," says Colonel Hugonin, "they strike me as being the most ungodly menagerie ever gotten together under one roof since Noah landed on Ararat."
She might have been a countess and it must be owned that the old Colonel, who had an honest Anglo-Saxon reverence for a title, saw this chance lost wistfully and she might have married any number of grammarless gentlemen, personally unknown to her, whose fervent proposals almost every mail brought in; and besides these, there were many others, more orthodox in their wooing, some of whom were genuinely in love with Margaret Hugonin, and some I grieve to admit it who were genuinely in love with her money; and she would have none of them.
I think you're possessed of seventeen devils. And now," the old gentleman demanded, after an awkward pause, "are you or are you not going to tell me what all this mystery is about?" "I can't," Miss Hugonin protested. "It it's a secret, attractive." "It ain't," said the Colonel, flatly "it's some more damn foolishness." And he went away in a fret and using language.
Still, he needn't have looked at it as though he had never before seen anything quite like it; he needn't have neglected to return it; and when Miss Hugonin reclaimed it, after a decent interval, he needn't have laughed in a manner that compelled her to laugh, too. These things were unnecessary and annoying, as they caused Margaret to forget that she despised him.
For the wife of Frederick R. Woods had been before her marriage one of the beautiful Anstruther sisters, who, as certain New Yorkers still remember those grizzled, portly, rosy-gilled fellows who prattle on provocation of Jenny Lind and Castle Garden, and remember everything created a pronounced furor at their début in the days of crinoline and the Grecian bend; and Margaret Anstruther, as they will tell you, was married to Thomas Hugonin, then a gallant cavalry officer in the service of Her Majesty, the Empress of India.
But, in the main, they advocated theories he had always held excellent theories, he considered. And he was seized with an unreasonable desire to repudiate every one of them. For it seemed to him that every one of them was aimed at Margaret's approval. It did not matter to whom a remark was ostensibly addressed always at its conclusion the speaker glanced more or less openly toward Miss Hugonin.
It is the greatest power in the world, and we cannot cannot possibly look upon rich people as being quite like us. We must toady to them a bit, Margaret, whether we want to or not. The Eagle intimidates us all." "I hate him!" Miss Hugonin announced, with vehemence. Kennaston searched his pockets. After a moment he produced a dollar bill and showed her the Eagle on it.
In the soft, rosy twilight of the room the study at Selwoode is panelled in very dark oak, and the doors and windows are screened with crimson hangings her parti-coloured red-and-yellow gown might have been a scrap of afterglow left over from an unusually fine sunset. In a word, Miss Hugonin was a very quaint and colourful and delectable figure as she came a little further into the room.
Because you couldn't make allowances for a girl who for four years has seen nothing but money and money-worshippers and the power of money! Because I wanted your your respect, Billy. And you thought I couldn't give it up! Very well!" Miss Hugonin waved her hand airily toward the hearth. "Now I hope you know better. Don't you dare get up, Billy Woods!"
The second proof that this name must be the best of all possible names is that Margaret Hugonin bore it. And so the murder is out. You may suspect what you choose. I warn you in advance that I have no part whatever in her story; and if my admiration for her given name appear somewhat excessive, I can only protest that in this dissentient world every one has a right to his own taste.
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