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During the War, of course, he had kept fit to kill Germans; now that it was over he either did not know, or shrank in delicacy from explanation of his moving principle. "But he's right," said Monsieur Profond unexpectedly, "there's nothin' left but keepin' fit." The saying, too deep for Sunday afternoon, would have passed unanswered, but for the mercurial nature of young Mont. "Good!" he cried.
Soames checked his instinctive "Not particularly" he would not chaffer with this alien. "Yes," he said. "What do you want for it?" "What I gave." "All right," said Monsieur Profond. "I'll be glad to take that small picture. Post-Impressionists they're awful dead, but they're amusin'. I don' care for pictures much, but I've got some, just a small lot." "What DO you care for?"
Why, you haven't properly come out yet! That boy's a child!" "What boy? I've only got a headache. But I can't stand that man to-night." "Well, well," said Winifred, "go and lie down. I'll send you some bromide, and I shall talk to Prosper Profond. What business had he to gossip? Though I must say I think it's much better you should know." Fleur smiled. "Yes," she said, and slipped from the room.
George Forsyte, of course, was an old chap, but this Profond might be about his own age; Val felt extremely young, as if the Mayfly filly were a toy at which those two had laughed. The animal had lost reality. "That 'small' mare" he seemed to hear the voice of Monsieur Profond "what do you see in her? we must all die!" And George Forsyte, crony of his father, racing still!
The Hudson's Bay ships at once opened fire on the Profond, but this only loosened the ice and let the French ship escape. D'Iberville's aim was not to fight a naval battle but to secure the fort at Nelson. Accordingly, spreading the Pelican's sails to the wind, he steered south-west, leaving the other ships to follow his example.
But I should like to know that you haven't heard it all wrong." "His first wife," murmured Monsieur Profond. Choking back the words: "He was never married before"; she said: "Well, what about her?" "Mr. George Forsyde was tellin' me about your father's first wife marryin' his cousin Jolyon afterwards. It was a small bit unpleasant, I should think. I saw their boy nice boy!" Fleur looked up.
"Isn't he a great cat?" she whispered; and the sharp click of the billiard-balls rose, as if Jack Cardigan had capped the cat, the moon, caprice, and tragedy with: "In off the red!" Monsieur Profond had resumed his stroll, to a teasing little tune in his beard. What was it? Oh! yes, from "Rigoletto": "Donna a mobile." Just what he would think! She squeezed her father's arm.
From the top of this tower the prospect is very extensive, and, during the year 1793, when the republican army quartered themselves in it, a sentinel was placed there to give notice in case of the approach of an enemy. The historian of that period, speaking of the entrance to this tower, observes, in reference to the cruelties committed there in the Vendean war: "Il existait au milieu de la dernière cour un très beau puits, taillé dans le roc et extrêmement profond: il est actuellement comblé, et ma plume se refuse
'C'est avec les sentiments du plus profond regret': and again, 'Je suis bien scar que vous comprendrez mes sentiments, et m'accorderez l'honneur que je reclame au nom de ma patrie outrage. The word 'patrie' was broadcast over the letter, and 'honneur' appeared four times, and a more delicate word to harp on than the others! 'Not to Frenchmen, said his friend Rosamund.
Forsyde's comin'," and Monsieur Profond "poinded" with a yellow-gloved finger; "small car, with a small lunch"; he moved on, groomed, sleepy, and remote, George Forsyte following, neat, huge, and with his jesting air. Val remained gazing at the Mayfly filly.
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