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Updated: May 10, 2025
He admired his wife intensely, and never failed to flatter her vanity to the utmost excess, so that, on the whole, they were excellent friends, and agreed much better than most married people. It was about twelve o'clock in the day, when Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's neat little brougham and pair stopped at Lord Winsleigh's great house in Park Lane.
Rush-Marvelle's bonnet, and mentally calculating its cost. "Her ladyship is in the boo-dwar." "I'll go there," said Mrs. Marvelle, stepping into the hall, and beginning to walk across it, in her own important and self-assertive manner. "You needn't announce me." Briggs closed the street-door, settled his powdered wig, and looked after her meditatively.
A pang of remorse smote Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's heart as she remembered how loth she had been to meet Philip's "peasant" wife, she hesitated, then, yielding to her warm impulse, drew the girl closer and kissed her fair rose-tinted cheek. "You please everybody, my child," she said honestly. "Philip is a lucky man!
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