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Updated: June 20, 2025
His father, a nephew of the Reverend Samuel Locke, D.D., president of Harvard College, for whom he was named, was thirteen years a representative in the New Hampshire legislature, a member of the Congregational church in Rindge, and held important town offices there. There is strong presumptive evidence that the American family is an offshoot from this.
"What will you give me," he said, "if I can induce Howard to like it?" "My eternal friendship," she laughed. "That's not enough," said Trixton Brent. "Howard," said Honora that evening, "I've been going through houses to-day." "Houses!" he exclaimed, looking up from his newspaper. "And I've been most fortunate," she continued. "I found one that Mrs. Farnham built she is now Mrs. Rindge.
The horse is all right. I've ridden dozens of worse ones." "Oh, I'm sure he isn't," she cried; "call it fancy, call it instinct, call it anything you like but I feel it, Hugh. That woman Mrs. Rindge knows something about horses, and she said he was a brute." "Yes," he interrupted, with a short laugh, "and she wants to ride him." "Hugh, she's reckless.
"We tried our best to get a man for you," said Mrs. Rindge to Honora. "Didn't we, Abby? But in the little time we had, it was impossible. The only man we saw was Ned Carrington, and Hugh said he didn't think you'd want him." "Hugh showed a rare perception," said Honora. Be it recorded that she smiled.
Hugh, pausing in his badinage with Mrs. Rindge, looked at her. "Cheer up, Honora," he said. "I'm afraid this first house-party is too much for her," said Mrs. Kame. Honora made some protest that seemed to satisfy them, tried to rally herself, and succeeded sufficiently to pass muster.
Eustace Rindge, who had tried a second throw for happiness, such votaries of excitement would undoubtedly have been more than glad to avail themselves of the secluded hospitality of Grenoble for that which they would have been pleased to designate as "a lively time." Honora shuddered at the thought: And, as though the shudder had been prophetic, one morning the mail contained a letter from Mrs.
That's all I ask. What have you done to him, Honora, to put him in such a humour?" Honora laughed. "I hadn't noticed anything peculiar about him," she answered. "This boat reminds me of Adele," said Mrs. Shorter. "She loved it. I can see how she could get a divorce from Dicky but the 'Folly'! She told me yesterday that the sight of it made her homesick, and Eustace Rindge won't leave Paris."
"What do you call him?" asked Mrs. Rindge. "I haven't named him." "I'll give you a name." Chiltern looked at her. "What is it?" he said. "Oblivion," she replied: "By George, Adele," he exclaimed, "you have a way of hitting it off!" "Will you let me ride him this afternoon?" she asked. "I'm a a candidate for oblivion." She laughed a little and her eyes shone feverishly. "No you don't," he said.
Kame was of opinion that the sooner it was over with the better. All women were born to be disillusionized. Such was the key, at any rate, to the lady's conduct that evening at dinner, when she capped the anecdotes of Mr. Pembroke and Mrs. Rindge and even of Chiltern with others not less risque but more fastidiously and ingeniously suggestive. The reader may be spared their recital.
Her feeling had not been the same about Mrs. Rindge: Mrs. Kame's actions savoured of deliberate choice, of an inherent and calculating wickedness. Had the distraction of others besides himself been the chief business of Mr. Pembroke's life, he could not have succeeded better that afternoon. He must be given this credit: his motives remain problematical; at length he even drew laughter from her.
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