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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Walter was at Mountfield on Sunday, and they came over in the afternoon. They prowled about together. Of course they didn't want us." "But they had us all the same," said Nancy, with a grin. "We stalked them. They kissed in the Temple, and again in the peach-house." "But there were lucid intervals," said Joan.
They loved the men they were going to marry, but they also got a great deal of satisfaction out of the change in their surroundings, quite apart from that. What sort of change would she have as Jim's wife? She would step straight out of one large house into another, and she would no more be the mistress of Mountfield than she had been of Kencote. So she told herself.
That is all over now, and I can't think about that fellow." "Well, I won't ask you to. But I suppose you won't mind telling me why she did such an extraordinary thing." "Because she is bored to death at Kencote, and I don't wonder at it." "And do you still intend to bring her to be bored to death at Mountfield?" "Yes, I do, if she will come. And I'll see that she's not bored.
When he had come back to Mountfield at Christmas he had been in all respects as he had been up to six months before, friendly and brotherly, and no more. It made it easier for her, for her pride had been a little wounded.
She won't do it again, I'll promise you that. I've talked to her." "I think it is time I took her," said Jim, "if she'll have me." "Have you? Of course she'll have you. But you mustn't let Mountfield. Don't think of that, my boy. We'll square it somehow, between us.
The drawing-room at Mountfield was a long, rather low room, hung with an old French paper of nondescript grey, upon which were some water-colours which were supposed to be valuable. The carpet was of faded green, with ferns and roses. The curtains were of thick crimson brocade under a gilt canopy.
The Clintons had dined at Mountfield on Friday night, the Grahams and Mackenzie had dined at Kencote on Saturday, and it had been arranged that Jim and his guest should drive over this afternoon and stay to dine again. When luncheon was over the Squire retired into the library with the Spectator, which it was known he would not read, Dick went into the smoking-room, Mrs.
And when the groom came back from Mountfield with Dick's note to Mrs. Clinton, late as it was, he had him up, and sent him down again to spread his news and his suspicions busily, although he had been threatened with instant dismissal if he said a word to anybody.
And I don't know that I could put up with London, living there by myself. If you were with me I shouldn't care where I lived. I would rather live all my life at Melbury Park with you, than at Mountfield without you." "O Jim," she said in a low voice, bending over her drawing board, "you are good and generous. But you can't want me now."
"I've come to see you, to tell you something I thought you'd be interested in. I want to stand for Parliament, and I'm going to let Mountfield." She looked up at him with a shade of relief in her face. "O Jim," she said, "I do hope you will get in." "Well, to tell you the truth, I don't expect to get in," said Jim. "They won't have fellows who think as I do in the party now if they can help it.
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