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Updated: June 1, 2025
His mother had seen poor Agatha Merceron; this was before the farmer was born a little while before and the shock had come nigh to being most serious to him. The whole countryside knew it. "Why do you call it nonsense, Mr. Prime?" asked Agatha. "Oh, I don't know, Miss " "Miss Brown, Willie," said Nettie. "Miss Brown. Anyway, we needn't go the time the ghost comes."
Merceron told me so when he was talking to me on the platform." "You know young Mr. Merceron?" asked Agatha. "Why, they was boys together," interrupted the old farmer, who made little of the refinements of speech. In his youth no one, from the lord to the laborer, spoke grammar in the country. "Used to larn to swim together in the Pool, didn't you, Willie?"
"Does Mr. Marland?" "He begins by it," laughed his wife. "Is that why he's not coming till Saturday week?" "Mr. Merceron! But what was Miss Bushell doing at the Pool? Did she come to find you?" "Oh, no; just for a walk." "Poor girl!" "Why it's good for her." "I didn't mean the walk," "I'd blush if there was light enough to make it any use, Mrs. Marland." "Oh, but I know there's something.
"I've told you before that that's not true," he said angrily. Calder laughed. "All right, all right. We used to think, once upon a time, Merceron, you know, that old Victor here was a bit smitten himself; but he hasn't drugged my champagne yet, so of course, as he says, it was all a mistake." After dinner the three separated. Victor had to go to a party.
Willie Prime was red and yellow. "Blue? Oh: you mean his cheeks?" "Yes. But he's a handsome gentleman all the same; and you should have seen his luggage! Such a dressing-bag cost fifty pounds, I daresay." "Oh, dear, me," said Agatha, "Yes, Nettie, I shall go the day after to-morrow." "Mr. Merceron asked to be introduced to me," said Nettie proudly.
Calder looked at him. "Well, you are a good chap. Dashed if I don't. Yes, I will. We'll enjoy ourselves like thunder. But I say, Merceron, I I ought to write to her, oughtn't I?" "I am just going to write myself." "To to say good-by, eh?" "Yes." "I shall write and break it off." "Come along. We'll go to your rooms and got the thing done, and then catch the train. My luggage is at the station now."
"Rather dilapidated, I'm afraid." "What's the time, Mr. Merceron?" "Half-past six. Oh, by Jove!" "Well? Afraid of seeing poor Agatha?" "I should see nobody but you, if you were here. No. I forgot that. I've got to meet someone at the station at a quarter-past seven." "Oh, do tell me who?" "You'd be none the wiser. It's a Mr. Victor Sutton."
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.
Vansittart Merceron smiled at his sister-in-law and shrugged his shoulders; but in vain. To the smoking-room went the wicked Lord Warmley, and Lady Agatha was remarkably lucky in that she did not follow him. Mr.
"You see, I couldn't come till Calder "Oh, what about Calder?" "He's all right." "What? Miss the girl you upset out of the canoe?" "I think so," said Charlie. "Ah, well!" said Agatha. "But how very curious!" Then she smiled at Charlie, and asked, "But what love can there be, Mr. Merceron, where there is deceit?" Charlie took no notice at all of this question.
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