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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Fortunately," said the speaker, who offered his explanation as if he had had it on his mind "fortunately the ladies haven't yet come." "Oh there ARE to be ladies?" Mr. Mitchett was all response. His fellow guest, who was shy and apparently nervous, sidled about a little, swinging an eye-glass, yet glancing in a manner a trifle birdlike from object to object. "Mrs. Edward Brookenham I think."
"You shall never, never find out not if you were never to speak to me again," Mr. Mitchett replied with extravagant firmness. "Harold's one of my great amusements I really have awfully few; and if you deprive me of him you'll be a fiend. There are only one or two things I want to live for, but one of them is to see how far Harold will go. Please give me some more tea."
Why isn't it convincingly plain to you that the thing to do with Nanda is just to marry her and to marry her soon? That's the great thing do it while you CAN. If you don't want her downstairs at which, let me say, I don't in the least wonder your remedy is to take the right alternative. Don't send her to Tishy " "Send her to Mr. Mitchett?" Mrs. Brookenham unresentfully quavered.
Mitchett and the dark-eyed girl she had brought to him on New Year's Eve, the very night he had learned of his own daughter's tragedy had he ever thought of them since? How had that poor girl fared? He had been too impatient of her impenetrable mood.
What it does show, I suppose," Mr. Mitchett went on, "is that she takes no trouble to meet me." "My dear Mitchy," said Mrs. Brookenham, "what do YOU know about 'trouble' either poor Nanda's or mine or anybody's else?
Mitchett on this jumped up; he was clearly conscious of his nerves; he fidgeted away a few steps and then, his hands in his pockets, fixed on his hostess a countenance more controlled. "What does the Duchess mean by your daughter's being as I understood you to quote her just now 'damaged and depraved'?" Mrs. Brookenham came up she literally rose smiling. "You fit the cap.
The woman had taken out her handkerchief, and was wiping her eyes; but the girl sat quiet, as the mouse she somewhat resembled in that coat. "Yes, Mrs. Mitchett?" He said gently, at last. The woman put away her handkerchief, sniffed resolutely, and began: "It's 'Ilda, sir. Such a thing Mitchett and me never could 'ave expected, comin' on us so sudden.
Mitchett had so little intrinsic appearance that an observer would have felt indebted for help in placing him to the rare prominence of his colourless eyes and the positive attention drawn to his chin by the precipitation of its retreat from discovery.
Brookenham's drawing-room, in free exchange of their happy impression. Mr. Mitchett was none the less scantly diverted from his estimate of the occasion Mrs. Brookenham had just named to him. "My dear Duchess," he promptly asked, "do you mind explaining to me an opinion I've just heard of your with marked originality holding?"
"Oh I don't feel at all obliged to consider him, for he has not of late particularly put himself out for me. He has not been to see me since I don't know when, and the last time he did come he brought Mr. Mitchett." "Here it was the other way round. It was Mr. Mitchett, the other year, who first brought Lord Petherton." "And who," asked the Duchess, "had first brought Mr. Mitchett?" Mrs.
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