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Updated: June 18, 2025
Yours faithfully, P. G. Northover. Rupert Grant was leaning forward listening with hawk-like eyes. He cut in: "Is it dated from anywhere?" "No oh, yes!" replied Brown, glancing upon the paper; "14 Tanner's Court, North " Rupert sprang up and struck his hands together. "Then why are we hanging here? Let's get along. Basil, lend me your revolver."
Sophy held back in the general move, Ulick made a step nearer, their eyes met, and if ever eyes spoke, hers ordered him to keep his distance, while he glanced affront for affront, bowed and stepped back. Sophy sat by Miss Jane Northover, and endeavoured to make her talk.
Northover, who was an acquaintance of his, in its mysteries. "These are old-fashioned frames," he declared, "and I shan't rest till I've turned them out of the works and got the latest and best. I'm all for the new things, because they help the workers and give good results. In fact, I tell my brother that he's behind the times.
"Certainly not," said the Major shortly. "Then I must explain with more elaboration," said Mr Northover, with a sigh. "The Adventure and Romance Agency has been started to meet a great modern desire. On every side, in conversation and in literature, we hear of the desire for a larger theatre of events for something to waylay us and lead us splendidly astray.
Gurd rose to his full height. "Well, that lets me out," he said. "We'd better turn this over in a forgiving spirit; and since you say you're sorry, I won't be behind you, though my words was whips to your scorpions and you can't deny it." "We'll meet again in a week," said Mrs. Northover. "Make it a fortnight," he suggested. "No say a month," she answered "or six weeks."
There was Mr Montmorency, the Arboreal House-Agent, seated between the two brisk young men who were occasionally vicars, and always Professional Detainers. There was Mr P. G. Northover, founder of the Adventure and Romance Agency. There was Professor Chadd, who invented the dancing Language.
"Never was such a brave one, I'm sure," she said, conscious of their secret. "If you haven't got nerve, you're no good," summed up the young man; "and if you have got nerve, then use it and break out of the beaten track and welcome your luck and court a few adventures for your soul's sake." "All very well for you men," said Mrs. Northover.
On a Saturday in August, Sarah Northover, one of those who minded the 'spreader' at Bridetown Mill, came to see her aunt the mistress of 'The Seven Stars, in Barrack Street, Bridport. She had walked three miles through the hot and dusty lanes and found the shady streets of Bridport cool by comparison, but there was work for her at 'The Seven Stars, and Mrs. Northover proved very busy.
A counter so terrific destroyed the last glimmering hope of a peaceful situation, and Mrs. Northover perceived this first. "It's war then?" she said. "So perhaps you'll tell me what you mean by my little bit of grass. Not the finest pleasure gardens in Bridport, I suppose?" "Be damned if this ain't the funniest thing I've ever heard," he answered.
He treated us as cousins no more he would act in the same manner by any of the Miss O'Mores of Ballymakilty, nay, by Jane Northover herself. We did not allow for Irish manner. 'If so, he had no right to do so. I shall never wish to see him here again. 'No, mamma, he did not know the folly he had to deal with. Next time I meet him, I shall know how to be really indifferent.
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