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Updated: May 29, 2025
"The Morrells' Sunday night suppers are an institution," supplemented Sansome. "I wish I could persuade you," urged Morrell. "I wonder where Mimi is. I know Mrs. Morrell ought to call, and all that sort of thing, but this is not a conventional place. We live next door, y'know. Do be delightful and neighbourly, and come!"
For example, it spared Sally Warner, with her spotted veils drawn close around her face, her red belts, and her red tufts on her small toques, but it blasted the Morrells. Mrs. Morrell clung tenaciously to the outskirts, but she knew only too well that she did not "belong." In her heart she ascribed this fact to Mrs. Keith. This was unjust, but it added to her bitterness against her neighbours.
Second, would a denial avail against their story? His commonsense told him that if the Morrells started this thing they would carry it through to a finish. There was no sense in it otherwise, for such an attack would mean the burning of most of their social bridges. Morrell could get witnesses from Belle's say, the coloured maid whom he had not tipped and there were his hat and coat.
At first she offered one excuse or another, in an attempt to be both polite and plausible. She much preferred a book at home, or a whole free evening to work at making her house attractive. Later, Keith got into the habit of taking her attitude for granted. "I promised to run over to the Morrells' this evening," he would say, "More music. Of course you won't care to come. You won't be lonely?
If Essington had mentioned that sooner, I don't know that I'd have been so keen about the notion. Hang it! I'll have to chuck the Morrells' dance. And I can't go with the Greys to Ranelagh. I can't even dine with my own aunt on Sunday. Oh, the devil!" The perturbed young peer waved his umbrella and climbed into a hansom. "Well, anyhow, I can still go on seeing Connie.
There was a sudden stir outside the sound of crunching wheels and grinding machinery and escaping steam. The two girls looked down from the bay. A bulky figure got out of an automobile, gave a command or two in a peremptory tone, entered the house and made his wants known to the steward. "H'm," said Virgilia; "one of the Morrells."
"I don't think she would contribute much. Why not the Morrells; or the Putneys, at once?" She added abruptly, "I think I shall ask Jack Wilmington." Adeline gave a start, and looked keenly at her; but she went on quite imperviously. "The Hilarys know him. Matt Hilary and he were quite friends at one time.
Although of a sanguine and excitable temperament When only little things were involved, he was clear headed and uninfluenced by personal feeling in real emergencies. First, would the Morrells carry out the implied threat? His instinct supplied that answer. Of Morrell himself he had never had any trust.
"May I come to dinner to-night, Lyn?" he asked. "Sorry, Con, but I must dine with some people who have bought a hideous house and want me to get them out of the scrape by remodelling the inside. They're awfully rich and impossible it's a sort of duty to the public, you know." "To-morrow then, Lyn?" "Yes, indeed. Only Brace will be dining with the Morrells; by the way, she's a dear, Con."
"Of course you'll miss us, dear old fellow, but we'll soon be back and" she put her lips to his ear and whispered "there's the little sister of the Morrells; play with her until we come home." There are times in life that stand forth as if specially designed, and cause one to wonder, if after all, a personal God isn't directing affairs for the individual.
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