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Updated: June 28, 2025
She retired at once and Hardress and Kyrle sat talking together of Anne Chute. The sight of his friend's sufferings won Hardress's sympathies. He protested his disbelief in the idea of another attachment, and recommended perseverance. "Trust everything to me," he said.
"Kyrle Ballard, you've finished your sandwich, haven't you?" breaks in Zenobia. "There! It's striking twelve, and I make it a rule never to be sentimental after midnight. You and Martha wouldn't enjoy meeting each other; so you'll not be coming again. Besides, I've a busy week ahead of me. When you get settled abroad again, though, you might let me know. Good-night. Happy dreams."
"What in the name of heaven has brought you here?" I asked. "Does Mr. Fairlie know ?" Marian suspended the question on my lips by telling me that Mr. Fairlie was dead. He had been struck by paralysis, and had never rallied after the shock. Mr. Kyrle had informed them of his death, and had advised them to proceed immediately to Limmeridge House.
I persevered, however, to the end, and as soon as I reached it, boldly asked the one important question "What is your opinion, Mr. Kyrle?" He was too cautious to commit himself to an answer without taking time to recover his self-possession first. "Before I give my opinion," he said, "I must beg permission to clear the ground by a few questions."
Kyrle and to his valet was by them assisted to stand on his legs, and then expressed himself in these terms: "Allow me to present Mr. Hartright. I am as great an invalid as ever, and he is so very obliging as to speak for me. The subject is dreadfully embarrassing. Please hear him, and don't make a noise!"
"But why, I've heard his voice before! It was at oh, I know! The nice old gentleman who had the villa next to ours at Mentone." "Ballard?" I suggests. "That's it!" says Vee. "And you say he is " "My Uncle Kyrle," says I. "My reg'lar uncle, you know." "Why, Torchy!" gasps Vee, grabbin' me by the arm. "Then then you " "Listen!" says I. "Hear your Aunty usin' her comp'ny voice.
"Kyrle, you know what you promised when you told me you'd make up with Martha? Now is the appointed time. Do it!" And Mr. Ballard, chuckin' his hat and overcoat on a chair, sails right in. I expect it was the last thing in the world Martha was lookin' for; for she sits there gazin' at him sort of stupid until he's done the trick. Uh-huh! No halfway business about it, either.
Mr. Kyrle, to whom he turned for help, told him plainly that he must decide the question then and there. Characteristically choosing the alternative which promised soonest to release him from all personal anxiety, he announced with a sudden outburst of energy, that he was not strong enough to bear any more bullying, and that we might do as we pleased. Mr.
"No," says Uncle Kyrle. "Poor Irene! She was always doing something for someone, you know, and when this big war got under way well, she went to the front at the first call from the Red Cross. I might have known she would. I suppose she simply couldn't bear to keep out of it all that suffering, and so much help needed.
Then he winks at Zenobia, gives his grapefruit a sherry bath, and proceeds to tackle a hearty breakfast. A few days after him and Zenobia got back from their runaway honeymoon trip he calls her to the front door. "There's a person out here who says he has a car for you," says he. "Nonsense!" says Zenobia. "Why, I haven't ordered a car." "The impudent rascal!" says Uncle Kyrle.
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