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Updated: May 11, 2025
"And Vane, who's just engaged to be married. I saw her photograph in his cabin. They were all all very kind. Lady Ingleton did everything to make me feel at ease. He's a delightful fellow the Ambassador, I mean. But I simply can't stand mingling my life with lives that are happy. So I had better go away and be alone again." "And lives that are unhappy?" "What do you mean?"
Mrs Ingleton was in bed; Jill was dining at the Rectory; Roger and Armstrong were taking a long ride; Tom was poaching on the Maxfield preserves. Only Captain Oliphant was at home. "Oh, you're here to receive me, are you?" snarled the visitor. "How long has it taken you to organise this flattering reception, I should like to know?"
Ingleton looked all around her with smiling criticism, and nodded to herself as if seeing her way to many improvements. She walked to the windows. "What a funny, old-fashioned garden! Quite medieval! I foresee a very busy time in store. Who lives on the other side of this property?" "Preston George Preston, the M.F.H.," said her husband, lounging up behind her. "About the richest man about here.
You spread the food outside, go indoors and close the shutters, and then, when no one is looking, it creeps up, takes the food, and vanishes." "A very great grief eats away the conventions, and beneath the conventions there is always something strongly animal." For a moment Lady Ingleton looked at Mrs. Clarke and was silent.
The impending birthday festivities at Maxfield were a topic of interest to others than merely the residents at the manor-house. There, indeed, the prospect was considerably damped by the failing health of Mrs Ingleton and the absence of Rosalind from the scene of action.
"Man? He was a boy; a raw-boned green boy, smarting under a sense of injustice, a regular, thorough-paced young Ishmaelite as you ever saw. I should fancy I did know him. But his name was not Ingleton." "What was it?" "Jack Rogers." "No doubt he adopted his own Christian name as a disguise." "Very likely. I could never get him to talk about his people.
"Excuse me," said he, "that's not my name; my name is Roger Ingleton. What's the matter?" "It's about my father. Have you seen him?" "Just left the dear man." "He says he owes you money, and that you threaten to ruin him. Is that so?" "Upon my word, if you want to know, it is." "How much is it, please?" Ratman laughed. "Nothing. A trifle. Fifteen hundred pounds or thereabouts."
"Mr Frank Armstrong is informed that his services as tutor to Roger Ingleton will not be required after this day month, the 25th prox. Mr Armstrong is at liberty to remain at Maxfield until that date, or may leave at once on accepting a month's wages in lieu of notice. For the Executors of Roger Ingleton, "Edward Oliphant."
They would have been glad to stay longer in such a beautiful spot, but the Clytie was getting up steam, and unless they wished to be left behind they must go on board again. The Ingleton party agreed afterwards that their voyage down the Mediterranean was an experience never to be forgotten. In the bright February sunshine the blue waters deserved their reputation.
"Shall we stay here long, Miladi?" "No; but I don't know how long yet. Is Jane all right?" "She has been looking out of the window, Miladi, the whole way. She is in ecstasy. Dogs have no judgment, Miladi." When Lady Ingleton was in her sitting-room at the Adelphi Hotel, and had had the fire lighted and tea brought up, she asked to see the manager for a moment.
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