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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Fairly so," answers Lord Masherville indifferently. "I only came back two days ago. Lady Winsleigh met me by chance at the theatre, and asked me to look in to-night for 'some fun' she said. Have you any idea what she meant?" "Of course!" says the fair New Yorker, with a little nasal laugh, "don't yew know?
And she nods her little head, crowned with its glossy braids of chestnut hair, in a very coquettish manner, while her mother, persistently beaming a stereotyped company smile on all around her, begins to ascend the stairs, beckoning her daughter to follow. Marcia does so, and Lord Algernon Masherville escorts her.
"I should know you anywhere," declared Masherville, nervously fumbling with the string of his eye-glass. "It's impossible to forget your face, Miss Marcia!" She was silent, and kept that face turned from him so long that the gentle little lord was surprised. He approached her more closely and took her hand the hand that had played with the drops in the fountain.
Marvelle nodded blandly. "Admirable, admirable!" he murmured, with a soft little laugh, "A very clever girl a very bright creature! And really there are worse fellows than Masherville! The title is old." "Yes, the title is all very well," retorted his wife "but there's no money or at least very little." "Marcia has sufficient to cover any deficit?" suggested Mr.
That far-seeing matron had indeed urged on the wedding by every delicate expedient possible. "Long engagements are a great mistake," she told Marcia, then, in a warning undertone she added, "Men are capricious nowadays, they're all so much in demand, better take Masherville while he's in the humor." Marcia accepted this hint and took him, and Mrs.
Poor Masherville could not help gazing at her with a lack-lustre admiration in his pale eyes, and Marcia, calculating every move in her own shrewd mind, saw it. She turned her head away with a petulant yet coquettish movement. "My patience!" she exclaimed; "yew kin stare! Yew'll know me again when yew see me, say?"
She did speculate on Bruce-Errington, you know he was very attentive to her, at that ball I gave just before he went off to Norway." "He certainly seemed rather amused by her," said Mr. Marvelle. "Did she take it to heart when she heard he was married?" "I should think not," replied Mrs. Marvelle loftily. "She has too much sense. She merely said, 'All right! I must stick to Masherville!" Mr.
The last glimpse they caught of the Winsleigh festivities was Marcia Van Clupp sitting on the stairs, polishing off with much gusto the wing and half-breast of a capon, while the mild Lord Masherville stood on the step just above her, consoling his appetite with a spoonful of tepid yellow jelly.
We're all here to see the fisherwoman from the wilds of Norway, the creature Sir Philip Errington married last year. I conclude she'll give us fits all round, don't yew?" Lord Masherville, at this, appears to hesitate. His eye-glass troubles him, and he fidgets with its black string.
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