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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Certainly; most certainly," said Mrs. Forrester, but with a haste and heat somewhat suspicious. "If she loved him." "If he were personally fit, you mean. Herr Lippheim is undoubtedly warm-hearted and, in his own way, intelligent, but he is as unfit to be Karen's husband as your bootmaker to be yours."
Forrester greatly and, as she listened, her severity towards Gregory shaped itself anew and more forcibly. Narrow, blind, bigoted young man. And it was amusing to think, as a comment on his fierce consciousness of Herr Lippheim's unfitness, that here Herr Lippheim was, admitted to the very heart of Karen's sorrow.
While he spoke he had wrapped her round and laid her head softly on a folded garment that he drew from his knapsack; and in a few moments he saw that she slept, the profound sleep of complete exhaustion. Franz Lippheim sat above her, not daring to light his pipe for fear of waking her. He, watched the glory of the sunrise. It was perhaps the most wonderful hour in Franz's life.
"Dear Mrs. Talcott," it ran. "Karen is found. The detectives discovered that Mr. Franz Lippheim had not gone to Germany with his family. They traced him to an inn in the New Forest. Karen is with him and has taken his name. May I ask you, if possible, to keep this fact from her guardian for the present. Yours sincerely, "Gregory Jardine." When Mrs.
Madame von Marwitz raised herself in her chair to stretch her hand and take from the mantelpiece a letter lying there. "This came this morning, my Karen," she said. "From our good Lise Lippheim." Frau Lippheim was a warm-hearted, talented, exuberant Jewess who had been a fellow student of Madame von Marwitz's in girlhood.
She got out of the fly and told the man to carry in her box and dressing-case and then to wait. She opened the little gate, and as she did so, glancing up, she saw Franz Lippheim standing looking out at her from a ground-floor window. His gaze was stark in its astonishment. She returned it with a solemn smile.
No; I can't rejoice over it, though, of course I wish them joy; I wired to them this morning and I'm sending them a very handsome paper-cutter of dear father's. Gregory will appreciate that, I think. But no; I shall always be sorry that she didn't marry Franz Lippheim." The Jardines did not come back to London till October.
"That is petulant almost an insolent simile, Gregory. It only reveals, pitifully, your narrowness and prejudice and, I will add, your ignorance. Herr Lippheim is an artist; a man of character and significance. Many of my dearest friends have been such; hearts of gold; the salt of the world." "Would you have allowed a daughter of yours, may I ask, to marry one of these hearts of gold?"
In the hall Barker was assorting the sombrero, the Latin Quartier and the cream-coloured felt; the last belonged to Herr Lippheim, who was putting it on when Gregory escorted Lady Rose to the door. Gregory gave the young man a listless hand. He couldn't forgive Herr Lippheim.
Do you remember that little white silk dress of mine? perhaps so; I wore it at the concert, such a pretty dress, I think. Frau Lippheim helped me with that she and a little German seamstress in Leipsig. I see us now, all bending over the rustling silk, round the table with the lamp on it. We had to make it so quickly.
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