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Updated: June 23, 2025
Young Chevenix, when they had disappeared, returned with a grin to his Bradshaw. "No change from Sanchia," he said; and "Let's see: Birmingham depart 4.45. By Gad, that's a good train. No," he resumed; "no change out of Sancie. How long is it since you were here, Nevile?" Ingram was staring blankly out of window. "I think a year. I don't know.
She turned her back on Kensington and Camberley, and went into the City, to The Poultry, with her griefs. Poor Mr. Percival's rosy gills and white whiskers, his invariable, "Well, Sancie well, my dear, well, well " called her home. She ran forward, clung to him, and lay a while in his arms, short-breathing, breathless for the advent of peace. To his, "What is it, my love?
"Yes," she said. "I'll come for half-an-hour." "Right! Right, goddess of the silver brake. Come, hold the pass with me." He turned to go, and she caught him up. "I mix my poets like salad, but that's because I'm in such high spirits. By Jove, Sancie, it is good to see you again." She met his laughing eyes with hers. She swam by his side took his net, and was happy. Her face glowed.
If you don't mind." He became as serious, immediately, as he was capable of being. "I'll do as you like, my dear but you'll let me say this, that if I could see you with all your belongings about you again, I should sing a hymn. That's all, Sancie; but it means a lot. When you went out of Great Cumberland Place, it became, somehow, another kind of place. I hardly ever go there now, you know.
"Yes, practically, it will, but oh, it's very extraordinary! You've had all your fun of engagement and all that, long ago." She looked down deeply at her hand; and then she gazed at her sister. "And, oh, Sancie, you've had your honeymoon!" Before the deadly simplicity of that last stroke Sanchia fell, and lay quivering. She could not ask for mercy, she could explain, extenuate, nothing.
"Look here, Sancie. Will you let me talk to you really as an old friend?" She looked up into his face, nodded and smiled. "Of course you may say what you like." He sat by her, collecting himself. "Well, then, what I shall say is just this. The whole thing is in your hands now. You can put it square. There's absolutely nothing in your way now well, now that Claire's gone, you know."
Her audacities of old had become artless prattle, her sallies were skips in the air. Yet to be purred over by a kitten was pure joy. "You darling! You darling little Sancie! You beautiful, pale, Madame-de-Watte- ville kind of person! Oh, my treasure and I thought I should never see you again!" So she cooed while she cuddled, Sanchia, for her part, saying little, but kissing much.
I thought, though, that you had been having words. You looked like it." Sanchia said, smiling in her queer way, "Oh, dear no. Mr. Chevenix is much too kind for that. He's been talking very nicely to me. He's been charming." "Oh, come, Sancie " cried the brisk young man, quite recovered. Ingram, in a stare, said, "Yes, Sancie, you may trust him. He's a friend of ours." "I do trust him," she said.
Letters forwarded, the right ones, unopened. How you can guess, it beats me! No worry. You don't ask me to write to you or expect it. You don't write to me and I don't expect it. You know me just as I know you. There's a confidence, a certainty about you. That's what's so splendid. There can't be a girl in the world like you." He clasped her in triumph. "My Sancie!
As he met her friendly, silent welcome, he expressed her to himself "By the gods above, you are without exception the healthiest finest bravest young woman that ever made the sun shine in grey weather." Aloud, he made things easy. "Here's your tea-party, Sancie, dressed in its best, eager for the fray.
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