United States or Germany ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
'Now, what does that remind me of? And the ball might roll and roll till Constance or somebody picked it up! And then ... Moreover a detail of which she had at first unaccountably failed to mark the significance this Peel-Swynnerton was a friend of the Mr. Povey as to whom he had inquired. In that case it could not be the same Povey.
In the chill way of long use she loved it. There! The incandescent gas-burner of the street-lamp outside had been turned down, as it was turned down every night! If it is possible to love such a phenomenon, she loved that phenomenon. That phenomenon was a portion of her life, dear to her. An agreeable young man, that Peel-Swynnerton!
The receiver of the wine-bottle signed a small paper in exchange for it and wrote largely a number on the label of the bottle; then, staring at the number and fearing that after all it might be misread by a stupid maid or an unscrupulous compeer, he would re- write the number on another part of the label, even more largely. Matthew Peel-Swynnerton obviously did not belong to this world.
At the end of 1878, the Exhibition Year, her Pension consisted of two floors instead of one, and she had turned the two hundred pounds stolen from Gerald into over two thousand. Matthew Peel-Swynnerton sat in the long dining-room of the Pension Frensham, Rue Lord Byron, Paris; and he looked out of place there.
But his information about Paris was infinitely precious and interesting to the younger man,, who saw that he had hitherto lived under strange misconceptions. "Have a whiskey?" asked Mr. Mardon, suddenly. "Very good here!" he added. "Thanks!" drawled Peel-Swynnerton. The temptation to listen to Mr. Mardon as long as Mr. Mardon would talk was not to be overcome.
Happily for the smoothness of Cyril's translation to London, young Peel-Swynnerton was acquainted with the capital, had a brother in Chelsea, knew of reputable lodgings, was, indeed, an encyclopaedia of the town, and would himself spend a portion of the autumn there.
She had signed with a brief gesture to one of the servants, who at once set about lighting the gas-jets over the table. "Who is that?" asked Peel-Swynnerton, without reflecting that it was now he who was making advances to the fellow whose napkin covered all his shirt-front. "That's the missis, that is," said Mr. Mardon, in a lower and semi-confidential voice. "Oh! Mrs. Frensham?" "Yes.
"Ten years ago she was very fresh and pretty, but of course it takes it out of 'em, a place like this!" "But still," said Peel-Swynnerton, "they must like it or they wouldn't stay that is, unless things are very different here from what they are in England." The conversation seemed to have stimulated him to examine the woman question in all its bearings, with philosophic curiosity. "Oh!
The explanation of old Samuel Peel's generosity was due to his being a cousin of the Peels of Bursley, the great eighteenth-century family of earthenware manufacturers. The main branch had died out, the notorious Carlotta Peel having expired shockingly in Paris, and another young descendant, Matthew, having been forced under a will to alter his name to Peel-Swynnerton.
She says it's now just as big as she can handle. That isn't so. She's a woman who could handle anything a born manager but even if it was so, all she would have to do would be to retire only leave us the place and the name. It's the name that counts. And she's made the name of Frensham worth something, I can tell you!" "Did she get the place from her husband?" asked Peel-Swynnerton.
Word Of The Day