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Updated: June 17, 2025
In one year he had isolated her from all except stout Betty. He had no qualms, for Gyp was no more happy away from him than he from her. He had but one bad half-hour. It came when he had at last decided that she should be called by his name, if not legally at least by custom, round Mildenham. It was to Markey he had given the order that Gyp was to be little Miss Winton for the future.
But now that the time was getting near, Gyp felt more and more every day as if she must go down and see her. She wrote to her father, who, after a dose of Harrogate with Aunt Rosamund, was back at Mildenham. Winton answered that the nurse was there, and that there seemed to be a woman, presumably the mother, staying with her, but that he had not of course made direct inquiry.
Whether at Mildenham, or in London under the wing of his sister, there was no difficulty. Gyp was too pretty, Winton too cool, his quietness too formidable. She had every advantage. Society only troubles itself to make front against the visibly weak.
Three days after her abortive attempt to break away, Gyp, with much heart-searching, wrote to Daphne Wing, telling her of Fiorsen's illness, and mentioning a cottage near Mildenham, where if she liked to go she would be quite comfortable and safe from all curiosity, and finally begging to be allowed to make good the losses from any broken dance-contracts. Next morning, she found Mr.
Would you mind if I could make a sort of home at Mildenham where poor children could come to stay and get good air and food? There are such thousands of them." Strangely moved by this, the first wish he had heard her express since the tragedy, Winton took her hand, and, looking at it as if for answer to his question, said: "My dear, are, you strong enough?" "Quite.
Since the return from Cornwall, she had played for him in the music-room just as of old, and she chose the finish of a morning practice to say: "Gustav, I want to go to Mildenham this afternoon for a week. Father's lonely." He was putting away his violin, but she saw his neck grow red. "To him? No. He will steal you as he stole the baby. Let him have the baby if he likes. Not you. No."
From the moment she reached Mildenham, she began to lose that hopelessness about herself; and, for the first time, had the sensation of wanting to live in the new life within her.
To-morrow he would get back to Mildenham and see what hard riding would do. Without Gyp to be without Gyp! A fiddler! A chap who had never been on a horse in his life! And with his crutch-handled cane he switched viciously at the air, as though carving a man in two. His club, near Hyde Park Corner, had never seemed to him so desolate. From sheer force of habit he went into the card-room.
After his, "So he's gone to Ostend?" and his thought: 'He would! they never alluded to Fiorsen, but talked of horses, of Mildenham it seemed to Gyp years since she had been there of her childish escapades. And, looking at him quizzically, she asked: "What were you like as a boy, Dad? Aunt Rosamund says that you used to get into white rages when nobody could go near you.
Why must things come to an end? For the first time in her life, she thought of Mildenham and hunting without enthusiasm. She would rather stay in London. There she would not be cut off from music, from dancing, from people, and all the exhilaration of being appreciated. On the air came the shrilly, hollow droning of a thresher, and the sound seemed exactly to express her feelings.
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