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Updated: June 20, 2025
Just disorder. How can one do anything then? You mustn't. You mustn't. No. It's nonsense, little Poff. It's absurd. And you may spoil so much.... I HATE the way you talk of it.... As if it wasn't all absolutely RUBBISH...." She was earnest almost to the intonation of tears. Why couldn't her son go straight for his ends, clear tangible ends, as she had always done? This thinking about everything!
And why did you ever marry her? You might have known; her father was a swindler. She's begotten of deceit. She'll tell her own story while you are away, and a pretty story she'll make of it." "Do you want me to divorce her and make a scandal?" "I never wanted you to go away from her. If you'd stayed and watched her as a man should, as I begged you and implored you to do. Didn't I tell you, Poff?
"No, not so," she said, "stiffest of sons...." She laid hold of his ears in the old fashion and kissed one eye. "Congratulations, dear little Poff. Oh! congratulations! In heaps. I'm so GLAD." Now what was that for? And then Amanda came out upon the landing upstairs, saw the encounter with an involuntary cry of joy, and came downstairs with arms wide open.
All the time?" "I've told you I went alone. Do you think I tell you lies, mother?" "Everybody tells lies somehow," said Lady Marayne. "Easy lies or stiff ones. Don't FLOURISH, Poff. Don't start saying things like a moral windmill in a whirlwind. It's all a muddle. I suppose every one in London is getting in or out of these entanglements or something of the sort.
And when for a moment it seemed to him that she was not as a matter of fact dispersed and mixed at all, then with an instant eagerness he dismissed that one elucidatory gleam. "What are you doing in England, Poff?" she demanded. "And what are you going to do? "Nothing! And you are going to leave her in your house, with your property and a lover. If that's it, Poff, why did you ever come back?
To Lady Marayne all ideas were obnoxious, a form of fogging; all ideas, she held, were queer ideas. "And does he call himself a Socialist?" she asked. "I THOUGHT he would." "Poff," she cried suddenly, "you're not a SOCIALIST?" "Such a vague term." "But these friends of yours they seem to be ALL Socialists. Red ties and everything complete." "They have ideas," he evaded.
"But I'm NOT like my father!" said Benham puzzled. "No," she insisted, and with an air of appealing to his soberer reason, "so why should you go LOOKING like him? That CONCERNED expression...." She jumped to her feet. "Poff," she said, "I want to go and see the evening primroses pop. You and I are talking nonsense. THEY don't have ideas anyhow. They just pop as God meant them to do.
With him living on her! For that's what it comes to practically." "Well, what am I to do?" "You aren't going back without tying her up, Poff? You ought to stop every farthing of her money every farthing. It's your duty." "I can't do things like that." "But have you no Shame? To let that sort of thing go on!" "If I don't feel the Shame of it And I don't."
You have an easy and safe land trip of a few days. Then steamers again. Poff! you are there. By all means, the isthmus." We must allot a few more words of description to this Don Carlos Coronado. Let no one expect a stage Spaniard, with the air of a matador or a guerrillero, who wears only picturesque and outlandish costumes, and speaks only magniloquent Castilian.
Pip was as good as gold until she undermined him.... A woman can't wait about like an umbrella in a stand.... He was just a boy.... Only of course there she was a novelty. It is perfectly easy to understand. She flattered him.... Men are such fools." "Still it's no good saying that now." "But she'll spend all your money, Poff! She'll break your back with debts. What's to prevent her?
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