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Updated: April 30, 2025
"They seem to be as violent as the women who tore up Orpheus," said Lady Gosstre. Tracy Runningbrook shrieked, in a paroxysm, "Splendid!" from his couch on the sward, and immediately ran off with the idea, bodily. "Have I stumbled anywhere?" Lady Gosstre leaned to Mr. Powys. He replied with a satiric sententiousness that told Lady Gosstre what she wanted to know.
"They seem to be as violent as the women who tore up Orpheus," said Lady Gosstre. Tracy Runningbrook shrieked, in a paroxysm, "Splendid!" from his couch on the sward, and immediately ran off with the idea, bodily. "Have I stumbled anywhere?" Lady Gosstre leaned to Mr. Powys. He replied with a satiric sententiousness that told Lady Gosstre what she wanted to know.
Pericles approved of her voice as a singer, and Tracy Runningbrook let pass her behaviour as a girl, they conceived that on the whole they were safe in sounding a trumpet loudly. These gentlemen were connoisseurs, each in his walk. Concerning her position and parentage, nothing was known. She had met Adela's delicately-searching touches in that direction with a marked reserve.
Who would have imagined that she had hurt him? But she certainly looked with greater animation on Mr. Pericles; and when Tracy Runningbrook sat down by her, a perfect little carol of chatter sprang up between them. These two presented such a noticeable contrast, side by side, that the ladies had to send a message to separate them.
Of course we sailed East, reaching Dover at ten; and the story is this I knew Emilia was in it: Tracy Runningbrook had been stationed at Dover ten days by Miss Ford, to intercept Emilia's father, if he should be found taking her to the Continent by that route. He waited, and met them at last on the Esplanade.
When Tracy Runningbrook came down at his ordinary hour of noon to breakfast, he found a twisted note from Georgiana, telling him that important matters had summoned Merthyr to London, and that they were all to be seen at Lady Gosstre's town-house. "I believe, by Jove! Powys manoeuvres to get her away from me," he shouted, and sat down to his breakfast and his book with a comforted mind.
On their way homeward, among the chrysanthemums in the long garden-walk, they met Tracy Runningbrook, between whose shouts of delight and Emilia's reserve there was so marked a contrast that one would have deemed Tracy an offender in her sight.
Pericles thrown on a false scent, he persuaded Tracy Runningbrook to come to Brookfield, and write libretti for Emilia's operas. The two would sit down together for an hour, drawing wonderful precocious noses upon juvenile visages, when Emilia would sigh and say: "I can't work!" Tracy adding, with resignation: "I never can!" At first Mr. Pericles dogged them assiduously.
"There's nothing like Port," said Mr. Pole. "Get little Runningbrook to write a song: "There's nothing like Port." You put the music. I'll sing it." "You will," cried Emilia. "Yes, upon my honour! now my feet are warmer, I by Jingo! what's that?" and again he wore that strange calculating look, as if he were being internally sounded, and guessed at his probable depth. "What a twitch!
On their way homeward, among the chrysanthemums in the long garden-walk, they met Tracy Runningbrook, between whose shouts of delight and Emilia's reserve there was so marked a contrast that one would have deemed Tracy an offender in her sight.
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