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Updated: August 23, 2024
De Peyster's suite these days flew by with honeymoon rapidity; within, they lingered, and clung on, and seemed determined never to go, as is time's malevolent practice with those imprisoned. Mrs. De Peyster could hear Mary practicing, and practicing hard and, yes, brilliantly.
So placed that she could get all of the dim light that slanted through the tiny shuttered window, Mary began, her voice raised to meet the need of Mrs. De Peyster's aural handicap. Now Marie Corelli may have been the favorite novelist of a certain amiable queen, who somehow managed to continue to the age of eighty-two despite her preference. But Mrs.
De Peyster's housekeeper, and Miss Harmon, here, who has just returned from a quiet summer in Maine to attend her cousin's funeral. The fact is, gentlemen, to come right to the point, there is to be no funeral." "No funeral!" cried Mr. Mayfair. "No funeral!" ran through the crowd. "No funeral," repeated Mr. Pyecroft. "The reason, gentlemen, is that a great mistake has been made. Mrs.
De Peyster's pillow, "and a thousand for you, Matilda," thrusting the amount into her hands, "and a thousand for your dear brother Archibald," slipping his share into a vest pocket. Neither of the two women dared refuse the money. "But but," Mrs. De Peyster gasped thickly, "it's an outrageous forgery!" "A forgery, I grant you, my dear Angelica," Mr. Pyecroft said good-humoredly.
De Peyster a heavy saucer containing three shriveled black objects immured in a dark, forbidding liquor that suggested some wry tincture from a chemist's shop. In response to Mrs. De Peyster's glance of shrinking inquiry Matilda whispered that they were prunes.
De Peyster's housekeeper will be here." "But Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper would never know I was here." "I can't stand your talk another minute," she burst out. "Go!" He did not stir; continued to smile at her pleasantly. "Oh, I'm not really asking the favor, Clara. I'm pretty safe where I'm staying." "Go, I say! And if you don't care for your own danger, then at least consider mine." "Yours?"
De Peyster's second-best dinner parties. She had arrived but the moment before to bid her exalted cousin adieu and wish her bon-voyage, and was now silently gazing in unenvious admiration at the jewels Mrs. De Peyster was transferring to their traveling-cases with never a guess that perturbation might exist beneath her kinswoman's composed exterior.
"If Jack should learn that I am here " She could not express the horror of it. "Oh, ma'am!" Mrs. De Peyster's voice rang out with wild desperation. "Matilda, there is only one thing to do! We must leave the house!" "I think we'd better, ma'am," Matilda snuffled hysterically, "for with all of you here, and this keeping up, I I don't think I'd last a day, ma'am." "And we must leave at once!
De Peyster's remaining in her room might rouse suspicion. It seemed the cheaper and safer course to try to merge herself, an unnoticed figure, in the routine of the house. The dining-room was low-ceilinged and occupied the front basement and seemed to be ventilated solely through the kitchen. Mrs.
De Peyster's concern over her condition was rather more acute than society's. But she had begun to recover in a degree, and was now, though palpitant within, making a furtive study of Mary. Such light as there was fell full upon that small person. Mrs.
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