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Updated: June 3, 2025
The Duke had been New York's most distinguished titled visitor the previous winter; Mrs. De Peyster, to the general envy, had led in his entertainment; there had been whispers of another international marriage.
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.
Some of the Tories crowding around us raised a white flag. The major, sorely wounded now and all but disabled, swore a great oath and rode rough-shod into the ruck of cowering militiamen to pull down the flag. Again the white token of surrender was raised, and again the major rode in to beat it down with his sword. At this Captain de Peyster put in his word.
"I am." "It gives the bulk of my fortune to my son here." "Why, yes," admitted the Judge with increasing bewilderment. "His share amounts to two millions, or thereabouts." "Thereabouts." Mrs. De Peyster took two rustling, majestic steps toward her fireplace. "Until my son gives me very definite assurance that his conduct will be more suitable to me and my position, he is no longer my son."
And they had only the fifteen dollars in Matilda's black bag. "It seems to me, ma'am," ventured Matilda, "that a rooming-house or a boarding-house would be cheapest." "A boarding-house!" exclaimed Mrs. De Peyster. "But where?" Matilda remembered and reached into her slit pocket. "Yesterday I happened to pick up the card of a boarding-house in the library I've no idea how it came there.
And he called up the Tiffany Studios, and they said they'd had such a telephone order from Mrs. De Peyster." "Jack and I never dreamed that his mother might have left orders to have people in here to renovate the house!" cried Mary in dismay. "Then then Judge Harvey asked the man to put off the work," Matilda went on. "The man was very polite, but he said his orders from Mrs.
De Peyster upon her feet, with firm, deft, resistless hands had slipped the long coat upon her, had put the hat upon her head and pushed in the pins, had drawn the thick veil down over her face and had thrust her again down into her chair. "Matilda, not a word!" he ordered, in a quick, authoritative whisper. "Miss Harmon, not a word! Mrs.
It was when she was far toward the recovery of her health and her old-time beauty that he spoke to her of his newly formed intentions with characteristic unwordiness. "I am going into business, mother," he said, "with Philip de Peyster."
"They tell me that Colonel Hamilton started it, in the belief that it would be useful in an emergency, but when Colonel de Peyster succeeded to the command he stopped the work there, thinking that it might be of as much service to an enemy as to a friend."
De Peyster that Time stood still and taunted her, each day exactly like the day before, a day of half starvation, of tiptoed, breathless routine, days in which she spoke not a word save a whisper or two at midnight at the food-bearing visit of the sad-visaged Matilda, three dull, diabolic days dragged by their interminable length of hours. Such days! such awful, awful days!
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