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Updated: June 18, 2025
We exchanged promises to meet, in the ship that took her to India 'vows' we called them in the dear old times. Imagine how changed we shall find each other when we do meet again at last!" "In the mean time," said Mr. Kendrew, "your friend appears to have sent you her little daughter to represent her? It's a long journey for so young a traveler."
"It is the law," returned Mr. Delamayn, as a sufficient answer to him. Thus far not a word had escaped the master of the house. He sat with his lips fast closed and his eyes riveted on the table, thinking. Mr. Kendrew turned to him, and broke the silence. "Am I to understand," he asked, "that the advice you wanted from me related to this?" "Yes."
"I wish I could smooth out that frown!" she whispered. Mr. Vanborough impatiently shook his head. Mrs. Vanborough sighed as she turned to the door. Her husband called to her before she could leave the room. "Mind we are not interrupted!" "I will do my best, John." She looked at Mr. Kendrew, holding the door open for her; and resumed, with an effort, her former lightness of tone.
Then my thoughts wandered from the newspaper, and I found myself wondering what Lady Norah Kendrew might be like if she were young or old, plain or pretty, married or unmarried. And I suppose naturally that train of thought brought Lola once more into my imagination. I had, remember, to all intents, hardly seen her, and she had spoken to me only twice. Yet her personality literally obsessed me.
Foreigners might possibly think it a scandalous state of things. In this country we don't appear to mind it. Returning to the present case, the results stand thus: Mr. Vanborough is a single man; Mrs. Vanborough is a single woman; their child is illegitimate, and the priest, Ambrose Redman, is liable to be tried, and punished, as a felon, for marrying them." "An infamous law!" said Mr. Kendrew.
Vanborough was tall and dark a dashing, handsome man; with an energy in his face which all the world saw; with an inbred falseness under it which only a special observer could detect. Mr. Kendrew was short and light slow and awkward in manner, except when something happened to rouse him. Looking in his face, the world saw an ugly and undemonstrative little man.
Her husband, some years younger than herself, faced her at the table, sitting silent and constrained, and never, even by accident, looking at his wife. The third person was a guest. The husband's name was Vanborough. The guest's name was Kendrew. It was the end of the dinner. The fruit and the wine were on the table. Mr. Vanborough pushed the bottles in silence to Mr. Kendrew.
The moment they hear of John's Artesian well, they look as if they never drank water. And, if they happen to pass my poultry-yard, they instantly lose all appreciation of the merits of a fresh egg!" Mr. Kendrew laughed. "I have been through it all in my time," he said. "The people who want to take a house are the born enemies of the people who want to let a house. Odd isn't it, Vanborough?" Mr.
I can't help seeing the people who come to look at the house. Such people!" she continued, turning to Mr. Kendrew. "They distrust every thing, from the scraper at the door to the chimneys on the roof. They force their way in at all hours. They ask all sorts of impudent questions and they show you plainly that they don't mean to believe your answers, before you have time to make them.
It is possible that Matthew Murray may have obtained some experience of flax-machinery in working for Kendrew, which afterwards proved of use to him in Mr. Marshall's establishment.
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