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Updated: June 13, 2025
You should write to her once a week, or at least once a-fortnight; for women make no allowance either for business or laziness; whereas I can, by experience, make allowances for both: however, I wish you would generally write to me once a fortnight. Last week I paid my midsummer offering, of five hundred pounds, to Mr. Larpent, for your use, as I suppose he has informed you.
Larpent taking full interest in the talk, in so lively and gentle a manner, and she and her pretty pupil evidently on such sister-like terms, that Norman could hardly believe her to be the governess, when he thought of Miss Winter. Miss Rivers took up some brown leaves which she was cutting out with scissors, and shaping. "Our holiday work," said Mrs.
Larpent tried to enter into conversation with her, she let it drop two or three times while she was peering hard at a picture and trying to make out its subject. However, when they all went out to walk to church, Ethel lighted up, and talked, admired, and asked questions in her quick, eager way, which interested Mrs. Larpent greatly.
Are you going to congratulate me? We were married four days ago." Larpent's hand came out to him abruptly. "It's the best thing you've ever done, my lord," he said. "And you will never regret it." "What makes you say that?" said Saltash curiously. Their hands gripped and fell apart. Larpent answered him in the brief fashion of the man whose words are few.
"I never speculate so far as you are concerned," said Larpent, shaking the tobacco back into his pouch with care. "You think it wouldn't matter, perhaps?" gibed Saltash. "My royal house is so inured to scandal that no one would expect anything else?" "I don't think she is the sort to run away," said Larpent quietly. "And I'm pretty sure of one thing. You could hold her if you tried."
He is a better poet than philosopher: for all this illness and melancholy proceeds originally from the ill success of his "Gustavus Adolphus." He is grown extremely devout, which I am very glad of, because that is always a comfort to the afflicted. I cannot present Mr. Larpent with my New-Year's gift, till I come to town, which will be before Christmas at farthest; till when, God bless you! Adieu.
Saltash's voice was suddenly very suave; he was smiling still, but there was something rather formidable about his smile. "A young girl, Captain Beaumont, but amply protected, I assure you. It was our last night on board. She was masquerading in the state-cabin in a page's livery when you struck us. But for Larpent we should have been trapped there like rats when the yacht went down.
You tell me that you are going to the baths of BADEN; but that puzzles me a little, so I recommend this letter to the care of Mr. Larpent, to forward to you; for Baden I take to be the general German word for baths, and the particular ones are distinguished by some epithet, as Weissbaden, Carlsbaden, etc.
"Mighty curious," agreed Jake. For Larpent had kept to the bridge morosely, almost throughout the evening. He was standing there now, looking down upon the shifting, chattering crowd. He had no idea how long it would be before Saltash tired of the game and gave orders to set sail. He waited in dumb endurance as he would wait from day to day until the longed-for moment arrived.
"You apparently took it like the plague." "I didn't die of it," said Larpent grimly. "Perhaps the lady did!" suggested Saltash. "No. She didn't die either." Larpent's eyes came slowly upwards to the mocking eyes above them. "For all I know she may be living now," he said. Saltash's grin became a grimace. "Oh, heavens, Larpent! And you've had indigestion ever since? How long ago is it?
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