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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Wonder how and when Burke managed to catch her. He hasn't been home for ten years and she can't be five-and-twenty." "She probably did the catching," remarked his wife tersely. "But she will soon wish she hadn't." Sylvia returned two minutes later bearing a tray of which Merston hastened to relieve her.
She gave herself up to work as a respite from the torment of thought, resolutely refusing to look forward, striving so to become absorbed in the daily task as to crowd out even memory. She and Merston were fast friends also, and his wholesome masculine selfishness did her good. He was like a pleasant, rather spoilt child, unconventionally affectionate, and by no means difficult to manage.
For a second more she hesitated, then simply wrote her name. Folding up the hurried scrawl, she was conscious of a strong sense of dissatisfaction, but she would not reopen it. There was nothing more to be said. She went out with it to Bill Merston, and met his chaff with careless laughter. "You haven't told him to come and fetch you away, I hope?" Matilda said, as he rode away.
"Oh, I only know what they say," said Mrs. Merston. "I imagine he was in a large measure responsible for young Ranger's fall from virtue in the first place and that of a good many besides. He's something of a vampire, so they say. There are plenty of them about in this charming country."
Then, suddenly, the vision changed. She saw him as she had seen him on that last night, when she had awaked to find him kneeling by her bed. And again that swift pang went through her. She did not ask herself again if he wanted her. The door of her room opened on to the yard. She heard Merston lead his horse up to the front of the bungalow and stand talking to his wife who was just inside.
You've been used to society, and it isn't good for you to go without it entirely. Look at me!" said Mrs. Merston, with her short laugh. "And take warning!" The two men were sauntering towards them, and they moved to meet them. Far down in the east an almost unbelievably huge moon hung like a brazen shield. The mauve of the sunset had faded to pearl. "It is rather a beautiful world, isn't it?"
"We ought to start in two hours." "I shall be ready," said Sylvia. "Well!" said Mrs. Merston, with her thin smile. "Are you still enjoying the Garden of Eden, Mrs. Ranger?" Sylvia, white and tired after her ride, tried to smile in answer and failed. "I shall be glad when the winter is over," she said. Mrs. Merston's colourless eyes narrowed a little, taking her in.
She was getting like Mrs. Merston, she told herself passionately. Already her youth had gone, and all that made life worth living was going with it. She had made her desperate bid for happiness, and she had lost. And Burke Burke was only watching for her hour of weakness to make himself even more completely her master than he was already.
It was Lady Lucy's father old Lord Merston collected them. Lady Lucy never looks at them. Marsham does, I suppose sometimes. Do you know Marsham well?" "I made acquaintance with him and Lady Lucy on the Riviera." Mr. Bobbie observed her with a shrewd eye.
His sermon was a violent diatribe against kings in general, and "Charles Stuart" in particular, to which the few Royalists in his congregation had to listen with what patience they might. Jenny Lavender did not carry away a word of it. She only hoped that Ruth Merston and Dolly Campion, and all the other girls of her acquaintance, were there to see her. They drove back in the same order.
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