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Updated: April 30, 2025
Lady Merceron's way of judging pictures may seem peculiar, but the fact is that she lacked what is called the sense of historical perspective: she did not see why our ancestors should be treated so tenderly and allowed, with a charitable reference to the change in manners, forgiveness for what no one to-day could hope to win a pardon. Mr.
Vansittart Merceron's at the Court again, mamma." "Yes, dear. Lady Merceron told me he was coming. She wanted to consult him about Charlie." "She's always consulting him about Charlie, and it never makes any difference." Mrs. Bushell looked up from her needlework; her hands were full with needle and stuff, and a couple of pins protruded from her lips.
He thought the same himself, for that night at dinner he came in late for dinner he maintained the credit of the story with fierce conviction against Mr. Vansittart Merceron's scepticism. In old days the Mercerons had been great folk. They had held the earldom of Langbury and the barony of Warmley.
But it seems as if, in spite of certain drawbacks in Agatha Merceron's character, nothing very dreadful can have happened, because Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth, who are very particular folk, went to stay at the Court the other day, and their only complaint was that Charlie and his bride were always at the Pool!
"Now, if uncle Van," mused Charlie, "came here and saw this !" He carefully put the pin in his breast-pocket, and looked at his watch. It was exactly Agatha Merceron's time; yet Charlie leant back on his cold marble seat, put his hands in his pockets, and gazed up at the ceiling with the happiest possible smile on his face.
She recognized it as Charlie Merceron's, and, knowing that approach to the temple from the other side was to be gained only by a difficult path through a tangled wood, and that the canoe usually lay under a little shed a few yards from where she stood, she concluded that Charlie was in the temple. There was nothing surprising in that: it was a favorite haunt of his.
"I never asked you to, you know." They walked on a little way in silence. "Met young Sutton at lunch," observed Calder. "He's been rusticating with some relations of old Van Merceron's. They've got a nice place apparently." "I particularly dislike Mr. Sutton." "All right. He sha'n't come when we're married. Eh? What?" "I didn't speak," said Miss Glyn, who had certainly done something.
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