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Updated: June 28, 2025
"I am quite at your service," he said with a bitter irony. "I suppose you have some very important communication to make, considering the way in which you " "Interfered? Yes, it is time that I interfered," Mabyn said, still quite calm and a trifle pale. "Mr. Roscorla, to be frank, I don't like you, and perhaps I am not quite fair to you.
"At Plymouth Station, grandmother?" the young man said, becoming rather uneasy. "Yes. He got into the train just as we came up. A neatly-dressed man, gray hair and a healthy-looking face. I must have seen him somewhere about here before." "Roscorla is in Jamaica," said Trelyon positively.
I'll give the night-porter a sovereign a cup: then he'll offer to bring it to you in buckets. Now, don't you think the whole thing is beautifully arranged, Mabyn?" "It is quite lovely!" the girl said joyously, "for we shall be off with the morning train to London, while Mr. Roscorla is pottering about Launceston Station at midday.
"Are you going to town?" said Trelyon quickly. "Oh yes, of course." "When?" The question was abrupt, and it made Roscorla look at the young man as he answered. Trelyon seemed to him to be very much harassed about something or other. "Well, I suppose in a week or so: I am only home for a holiday, you know." "Oh, you'll be here for a week?" said the younger man submissively.
Roscorla would send to that letter of confession and contrition Wenna had written to him at Penzance. The letter had been written as an act of duty, and posted too; but there was no mail going out for ten days thereafter, so that a considerable time had to elapse before the answer came.
Roscorla found himself on his entrance being introduced to a good-looking, buxom dame, who had a healthy, merry, roseate face, very black eyes and hair, and a somewhat gorgeous dress. She was a trifle demure at first, but her amiable shyness soon wore off, and she was most kind to Mr. Roscorla. He, of course, had to take in Lady Weekes; but Mrs.
Roscorla, who was already assuming the airs of a rich person, and speaking of his being unable to live in this district or that district of London, just as if he expected to purchase a lease of Buckingham Palace on his return from Jamaica. "And how are all my old friends in Hans Place, Sir Percy?" he cried.
"Last time I played cards," Roscorla said modestly, "I was lucky enough to win forty-eight pounds," "Whew! We can't afford that sort of thing on this side of the water not if you happen to serve Her Majesty, any way. Come, let's cut for partners." There was but little talking, of course, during the card-playing: at the end of it Mr. Roscorla found he had only lost half a sovereign.
Roscorla was astounded. The fire in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the impetuosity of her voice were these the patient Wenna of old? But a girl betrays herself sometimes if she happens to have to defend her lover. "Oh it is shameful of you to say such things!" she said. "And you know they are not true. There is not any one I have ever seen who is so manly and frank and unselfish as Mr.
She went into the room, pale and yet firm: there was even a sense of gladness in her heart that now she must know the worst. What would he say? How would he receive her? She knew that she was at his mercy. Well, Mr. Roscorla at this moment was angry enough, for he had been deceived and trifled with in his absence; but he was also anxious, and his anxiety caused him to conceal his anger.
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