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Updated: May 22, 2025
There was a tiny triangular rent in the leather of the armchair wherein Phyl had been sitting and another armchair wanted a castor.
Then at supper, lo and behold! she discussed the going away of Phyl, as though it were a matter arranged and done with and carrying her full consent and approval. During the weeks following, Phyl's impending journey kept Mrs. Hennessey busy in a spasmodic way.
Then Miss Pinckney's voice as from an upper window: "Dinah! Seth! what's that I hear? Get on with your work the pair of you and stop your chattering. You hear me?" When Phyl came down Richard Pinckney was in the garden smoking a cigarette and gathering some carnations. "They're for aunt," said he, "to propitiate her for my being late last night. I wasn't in till one.
'I must, said he to Lady Merrifield, 'it's so like dancing with honest Phyl. 'The greatest compliment you could have, Mysie, said her mother, looking very much pleased. The last yellow patches of evening sunshine on the sloping roof faded; watches were looked at, the music turned to the National Anthem, everybody stood up, or stood still, and sung it. Then at the close, Mr.
Phyl would have married you, I know it, she would have made you happy, I know it, for I know her and I know you. Now it's all spoiled." He rose to his feet. It was the first time in his life that he had seen Maria Pinckney really put out. "I'll talk to you again about it," said he. Then he moved away.
He thought that he knew everything about Maria Pinckney, just as he had fancied he knew himself till Phyl had shewn him, over there in Ireland, that there were a lot of things in his mind and character still to be known by himself. This, as regards him, seemed the special mission of Phyl in the world. "It's the likeness," said Miss Pinckney.
She had been agile-minded enough to shift the attack and put him upon the defensive, but now Healy brought the question back to his original point. "That's all very well, Phyl, but we weren't talking about me, but about you. When you found this Keller making his escape you buckled in and helped him. You tied up his wound and took him to Yeager's and lied for him to us.
Come out, the two of you, and we'll go round the grounds and you will be able to see for yourself the state of the house and what repairs are wanting." "One moment," said Pinckney. "I want to tell Phyl something I'm going to call you Phyl because I'm your guardian d'you mind?" "No," said Phyl, "you can call me anything you like, I suppose."
Look right round you, do you see his statue?" "No," said Phyl, sweeping the view. "Where is it?" "Just so, where is it? It's not here, it's not in N'York, it's not in Baltimore, it's not in Philadelphia, it's not in Boston. The one real splendid writing man that America has produced she's ashamed to put up a statue to. Why? Because he drank! Why, God bless my soul, Grant drank.
Here where the docks lie deserted and the green water washes the weed grown and rotting timbers of wharves they took their seats on a baulk of timber to rest and contemplate things. "There used to be ships here once," said he. "Lots of ships but that was before the war." He was silent and Phyl glanced sideways at him, wondering what was in his mind. She soon found out.
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