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Updated: June 21, 2025
Bullsom said, doubling the paper up and bringing it down viciously upon his knee, "Henslow will never sit again for Medchester. There was none too mulch push about him last session, but he smoothed us all over somehow. He'll not do it again. I'm losing faith in the man, Brooks." Brooks was genuinely disturbed. His own suspicions had been gathering strength during the last few weeks.
"Some wine and biscuits, or something of that sort?" His hand was upon the bell, but Brooks stopped him. "Nothing at all, thank you, just now." "Luncheon will be served in half-an-hour," the Marquis said. "You will prefer to wait until then?" "I am much obliged to you," Brooks answered, "but I must be getting back to Medchester as soon as possible.
"Well, I'd no idea that sort of thing was in your line," one of the men exclaimed. "More it is," Arranmore answered. "Personally, I don't believe in charity in any modern application of it at any rate. But this man Brooks is a decent sort." "You know who Brooks is, then?" "Certainly. He was my agent for a short time in Medchester." Mr.
"Don't think me a prig, will you?" he said, "but I want to understand you. In Medchester you used to work for the people it was the greater part of your life. You are not giving that up altogether, are you?" She laughed him to scorn. "Am I such a butterfly? No, I hope to get some serious work to do, and I am looking forward to it. I have a letter of introduction to a Mrs.
Bullsom, one of my best clients, a large builder in Medchester," Brooks answered. "Why?" He stopped suddenly short. Arranmore glanced towards him in polite unconcern. "You saw her with me at Mellon's, in Medchester. You asked me her name." Lord Arranmore bent the card in his forefinger, and dropped his eyeglass. "So that is the young lady," he remarked. "I remember her distinctly.
"I noticed," he remarked, thoughtfully, "that a good many people coming out of the factories hissed my carriage in Medchester last time I was there. I hope they will not consider my cheque as a sign of weakness. But after all," he added, with a smile, "what does it matter? Let us go in to luncheon, Brooks." Brooks glanced down at his mud-splashed clothes and boots.
"Certain!" They walked on in silence for a few moments. "You have asked me a very difficult question," he said at last. "She has had a very unhappy sort of life. Her father and mother died in Canada her father shot himself, and her mother died of the shock. She went to live with an uncle at Medchester, who was good to her, but his household could scarcely have been very congenial.
Lady Sybil, in fact, made room for him by her side, and he fancied that there was a gleam of reproach in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Is Medchester really so large a place that one can get lost in it?" she asked. "Lord Arranmore has been sending messengers in every direction ever since we decided upon our little excursion.
Lady Caroom and her host were playing a leisurely game interspersed with conversation. "Who is this young Mr. Brooks?" she asked, pausing to chalk her cue. "A solicitor from Medchester," he answered. "He was Parliamentary agent for Henslow, and I am going to give him a management of my estates." "He is quite a boy," she remarked. "Twenty-six or seven," he answered.
He can't do it in a dignified manner, and with cleanliness and health. That is what he has a right to. That is what the next generation will demand. He should have room to expand. Cleanliness, air, fresh food. Every man and woman who is born into the world has a God-given right to these, and there are millions in Medchester, Manchester, and all the great cities who are denied all three."
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