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Updated: September 28, 2025
"Let me come in I will soon see for myself!" quoth my grandmother, and marched straight into the front hall of the Maitlands, that immense dusky cavern I had only once looked into over the pikes and pitchforks. She carried Sir Louis, tenth baronet of that name, on one arm.
Through her affections only was the child manageable, but in opposition to her spirit her mother was practically powerless. Indeed, this little sprout of the New Age always spoke of her to Philip and to the Maitlands as "little mother."
Richard, and then quite suddenly he turned moodily away. All at once he looked at my grandfather again. "You had better know," he said, "that the girl will have no money. So she ought to be taught dairymaking. I am partial to dairymaids myself! If she favours the Maitlands, she ought to make a pretty one."
The epithet seemed peculiarly tender to Philip, who had lost his father before he was six years old, and he was more attracted to the timid and gentle little widow than to his equable but more robust Aunt Eusebia, Mrs. Maitland, his father's elder sister, whom Philip fancied not a bit like his father except in sincerity, a quality common to the Maitlands and Burnetts.
In short, she determined, if possible, to induce her cousin to exert herself in learning extra lessons, in order to overtake the young Maitlands and herself. She thought, perhaps, that the very pride in the young girl's composition would aid her in this task, and in this she was not mistaken.
"I do so want to keep you to myself; I don't wish to share you with the Maitlands and Morgans and Pomeroys; you have brought me a new lease of life. Of late I have felt like a half-dead creature, without even the energy to open a book, much less to get up and dress. I have the Burma head, and take no interest in anything."
On crossing, at nine o'clock, the threshold of the Villa Steno to give an account of his mission to the Contessina, he was singularly moved. There was no one there but the Maitlands, two tourists and two English diplomatists, on their way to posts in the East. "I was awaiting you," said Alba to her friend, as soon as she could speak with him in a corner of the salon. "I need your advice.
He built the Maitlands' house, and did over the Cecil Graingers'. And he's going to do our house some day." "Why not right away?" asked Howard. "Because I've made up my mind to be very, very reasonable," she replied. "We're going to Quicksands for a while, first." "To Quicksands!" he repeated.
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