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Updated: July 5, 2025
Rush-Marvelle had assured her they were "charming"-and she liked Mrs. Marvelle sufficiently well to be willing to please her.
Van Clupp tabooed several of her own blood-relations and former intimate acquaintances? . . . for the very sensible reason that while she had grown richer, they had grown poorer. But now Mrs. Rush-Marvelle sailed up in all her glory, with her good-natured smile and matronly air. She was a privileged person, and she put her arm round Thelma's waist.
We saw the announcement of his marriage in the Times." "Ah yes, yes!" And Mr. Rush-Marvelle smiled a propitiatory smile, intended to soothe the evidently irritated feelings of his better-half, of whom he stood always in awe. "Of course, of course! A very sad mesalliance. Yes, yes! Poor fellow! And is there fresh news of him?"
"I think," he says slowly, "I think you will find yourself mistaken, Lady Winsleigh. I believe " Here he pauses, and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle fixes him with a stony stare. "Are we to understand that she is educated?" she inquires freezingly. "Positively well-educated?" Lorimer laughs. "Not according to the standard of modern fashionable requirements!" he replies. Mrs.
"Guess he came in as gently as a lamb!" she said. They understood her. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle rose from her chair in her usual stately and expensive manner. "I congratulate you, my dear!" kissing Marcia affectionately on both cheeks. "Bruce Errington would have been a better match, but, under the circumstances, Masherville is really about the best thing you could do.
George Lorimer lay stretched in lazy length at her feet, and near her stood her husband, together with Beau Lovelace and Lord Winsleigh. At a little distance, under the shadow of a noble beech, sat Mrs. Rush-Marvelle and Mrs. Van Clupp in earnest conversation. It was to Mrs.
Rush-Marvelle deliberately, laying down the Morning Post beside her breakfast-cup, "I think his conduct is perfectly disgraceful!" Mr. Rush-Marvelle, a lean gentleman with a sallow, clean-shaven face and an apologetic, almost frightened manner, looked up hastily. "Of whom are you speaking, my dear?" he inquired. "Why, of that wretched young man Bruce-Errington! He ought to be ashamed of himself!"
Rush-Marvelle heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the twain safely married, and off to the Continent on their honeymoon-trip, Marcia all sparkling and triumphant, Lord Algy tremulous and feebly ecstatic. "Thank Heaven that's over!" she said to her polite and servile husband. "I never had such a troublesome business in my life!
Another rapid movement and a pompous gold watch is thrust before the bewildered gaze of his listener. "From my bubils in Baris! I am bianist I am here to blay!" And raking his fingers through his long locks, he stares defiantly around him. Mr. Rush-Marvelle is a little frightened. This is an eccentric personage he must be soothed. Evidently he must be soothed!
And as he, in all the wickedness of daring and superior intellect, approaches, Lady Winsleigh draws herself up with the conscious air of a beauty who knows she is nearly perfect, Mrs. Rush-Marvelle makes a faint endeavor to settle the lace more modestly over her rebellious bosom, Marcia smiles coquettishly, and Mrs. "wealth always impresses these literary men more than anything!"
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