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Updated: June 2, 2025
He had been sure McLean in their last interview had thought so, and had, indeed, felt the half-veiled contempt with which the rich young man had expressed his pity for Mostyn's inability to take advantage at the right moment of an exceptional chance to play the game of beggaring his neighbor.
You seem to stay out of it, but what if you do? Are you going to sit like a knot on a log and have them say you made a loveless marriage for money, and " "Stop!" Mostyn flared out. "I won't stand it. You are going too far!" "Ah, I see you can be touched," the old man laughed, putting his hand on Mostyn's arm in his most senile mood. "I just wanted to set you thinking, that's all."
I could have backed down if I had wished, but I didn't, and now it is too late." "You'll think it's too late" Webb was drawing at his cigar, which he held against the fire of Mostyn's "when them fellers git through arguin', an' you the only one on your side!" "How is that?" Mostyn asked, wonderingly. Dolly averted her eyes.
A touch of red appeared in Mostyn's cheeks. "He is getting old and garrulous," he said. "I really have been of some help to him. It happens that I've never advised him wrongly in any venture he has made, and I suppose he overrates my ability; but, really, I give you my word that I have not thought seriously of marrying any one.
To-day I made it my business to inquire if a certain party you know who I mean was in town. I knew in reason that he wouldn't be, but I just asked to satisfy my mind. Do you get at my meaning, sir?" "I think I do." Mostyn's own words seemed to him to come from the heavy folds of the portiere hiding the desolate drawing-room beyond. "I thought you would." The retort was all but a snarl.
You always seemed to shirk the subject, and I have hesitated to mention it, but there is no one else I could question. The last time I heard of Dolly Drake she was still unmarried. Is there any likelihood of her marrying?" Mostyn's eyes were downcast, and he failed to see the half-angry flush which was creeping over Saunders's face. "I really can't say," he returned, coldly.
"And there is an awfully jolly banister for sliding down," added Harold, "without any turns or landing, you know." I professed myself unable to resist such inducements. Indeed, I was almost glad to go. The recollection of Mrs. Mostyn's cheerful face was as alluring to me that day as the thought of a glowing hearth might be to the beggar on the door-step.
The words rose sharply from the senile prattle and penetrated Mostyn's lethargy. "There's old Jeff Henderson he had the cheek to come to me to-day to borrow money. Said his family was in rags and starving. Said you euchred him out of all he had and got your start on it. What in the name of common sense does he come to me for? I don't own you, and I knew nothing about that transaction, either.
"'Cause we, none on us, want to see that poor lad fall over 'em, and break his legs. Eh?" No one did; and from that hour a new form of tidiness was observed in Mrs Mostyn's garden.
We had several pleasant days' fishing in the Clwyd and Elway; a Mr. Graham at Rhyl has permission to fish in Lord Mostyn's preserve, and he may take a friend, which character Papa and I personated for the time.
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