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Updated: May 27, 2025
She used to keep a boarding-house in Seventeenth Street, and she nearly ruined herself then by sticking out bow-windows and what not; I should have thought that would have cured her of building, but I guess it's a disease, like drink. Anyhow, the work is to begin on Monday." Mrs. Manstey had grown pale. She always spoke slowly, so the landlady did not heed the long pause which followed.
The magnolia had unfolded a few more sculptural flowers; the view was undisturbed. It was hard for Mrs. Manstey to breathe; each moment it grew more difficult. She tried to make them open the window, but they would not understand.
Her hand was on the door-knob, but with sudden vigor Mrs. Manstey seized her wrist. "You are not giving me a definite answer. Do you mean to say that you accept my proposition?" "Why, I'll think it over, Mrs. Manstey, certainly I will. I wouldn't annoy you for the world " "But the work is to begin to-morrow, I am told," Mrs. Manstey persisted. Mrs. Black hesitated.
I have two thousand dollars in the bank and I could manage, I know I could manage, to give you a thousand if " Mrs. Manstey paused; the tears were rolling down her cheeks. "There, there, Mrs. Manstey, don't you worry," repeated Mrs. Black, soothingly. "I am sure we can settle it. I am sorry that I can't stay and talk about it any longer, but this is such a busy time of day, with supper to get "
"It shan't begin, I promise you that; I'll send word to the builder this very night." Mrs. Manstey tightened her hold. "You are not deceiving me, are you?" she said. "No no," stammered Mrs. Black. "How can you think such a thing of me, Mrs. Manstey?" Slowly Mrs. Manstey's clutch relaxed, and she passed through the open door.
"I've had my day," Rose Eversley acknowledged, with her usual air of jesting gravity, that, almost ironic, made one always a little unsure of her. "Dear Mrs. Manstey, you perfectly see don't you? that Edith is papa's image, and " "And he was my old sweetheart!" Mrs. Manstey completed, with humorous appreciation of her own repetition of an old story. "Was he, really?" Edith wondered.
The occupants of the houses did not often show themselves at the back windows, but the servants were always in sight. Noisy slatterns, Mrs. Manstey pronounced the greater number; she knew their ways and hated them. But to the quiet cook in the newly painted house, whose mistress bullied her, and who secretly fed the stray cats at nightfall, Mrs. Manstey's warmest sympathies were given.
But there's no help for it; if people have got a mind to build extensions there's no law to prevent 'em, that I'm aware of." Mrs. Manstey, knowing this, was silent. "There is no help for it," Mrs. Sampson repeated, "but if I AM a church member, I wouldn't be so sorry if it ruined Eliza Black. Well, good-day, Mrs. Manstey; I'm glad to find you so comfortable." So comfortable so comfortable!
She even watched with a certain interest the trail of smoke from a far-off factory chimney, and missed a detail in the landscape when the factory was closed and the smoke disappeared. Mrs. Manstey, in the long hours which she spent at her window, was not idle. She read a little, and knitted numberless stockings; but the view surrounded and shaped her life as the sea does a lonely island.
"My house is full at present, but I am going to build an extension, and " "It is about the extension that I wish to speak," said Mrs. Manstey, suddenly. "I am a poor woman, Mrs. Black, and I have never been a happy one. I shall have to talk about myself first to to make you understand." Mrs. Black, astonished but imperturbable, bowed at this parenthesis. "I never had what I wanted," Mrs.
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