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Updated: May 3, 2025
The rest of her mighty herd of male friends and hangers-on ranged from Mathieu de Montmorency of whom, in the words of Medora Trevilian it may be said, that he was "only an excellent person" through respectable savants like Sismondi and Dumont, down to a very low level of toady and tuft-hunter.
Confess that you, with all your outfit and all your goings-on, never quite never quite succeeded in..." Medora shrugged. "The young, at best, only tolerate us. We are but the platform they dance on, the ladder they climb by." "After all, he was a 'charming' chap. Your own word, you know." "Yet scarcely worth the to-do we made over him," said Medora, willing to save her face.
When you took that fourth cup of tea I said to myself " "HUSH! Oh, hush! DON'T talk so. I didn't dream. Mrs. Barnes, I woke up at two o'clock this morning and and I heard Medora snoring as plain as I ever heard anything." Thankful was strongly tempted to laugh, but the expression on Miss Timpson's face was so deadly serious that she refrained. "Goodness!" she exclaimed. "Is that all?
Things became clearer still when Carolyn passed on the scanty message which Cope had added at the end. "Best regards to Mrs. Phillips" there it was, so far as it went. And Medora felt, along with Carolyn, that a slight mention was an immensity of times greater than no mention at all. "Very kind, very thoughtful of him, I'm sure," she said without irony.
Medora, indeed, improvised a little stretch of silent dialogue, and it made him take his share. She felt dislocated, almost defeated. Hortense's performance had set her to thinking of Bertram Cope, and she figured the same topic as uppermost in the mind of Basil Randolph. "Well, you have about beaten me," she said. "How so?" she made him ask, with an affectation of simplicity.
"It seems so to me," said his wife, as if she were producing a new thought. "I had no idea," Mr. van der Luyden continued, "that things had come to such a pass." He paused, and looked at his wife again. "It occurs to me, my dear, that the Countess Olenska is already a sort of relation through Medora Manson's first husband. At any rate, she will be when Newland marries."
Several hours later Miss Ogilvy, who was riding slowly along the road after a call at Bath House, suddenly drew rein and stared at an approaching picture. She had a pretty taste in art, had Miss Medora, and had painted all her island friends. Never had she longed more than at this moment for palette and brush.
"Well," said Randolph, "there are buildings, of course; and fountains, and sun-dials, and memorial benches; but..." "They add nothing to him," pronounced Medora, as she looked back on the retiring party. "Did you expect them to?" he asked. "Charm, like guilt, is personal. Anyhow, there seems to be no brother," he added.
He thought of his realty interests in town, as they lay exposed to spoliation, to confiscation. "I am afraid I shall not be a reformer," he said, in discouragement. Abner shook a condemnatory head in full corroboration. And Whyland, who may have been looking for a prop to wavering principles, shook his own head too. "Don't work so hard at it," said Medora, laying her violin on top of the pianola.
Dr. Carver is a very clever man. He wants a rich wife to finance his plans, and Medora is simply a good advertisement as a convert." "A convert to what?" "To all sorts of new and crazy social schemes. But, do you know, they interest me more than the blind conformity to tradition somebody else's tradition that I see among our own friends.
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