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Updated: May 7, 2025
For the last fortnight, this peculiarity had been accentuated till Mrs. Sandworth's loyalty had cracked at every seam in order not to find him intolerable to live with. Moreover, her own kind heart and intense partiality for peace in all things had suffered acutely from the same suspense that had wrought the doctor to his wretched fever of anxiety.
She was frowning a little with the fixity of her concentration as she turned to snatch up her long gloves and she did not hear Mrs. Sandworth's question until it had been repeated, "I said, Lydia, is it to be bridge this afternoon?" "I don't know," said Lydia with the full stop of absent indifference. "Didn't Mrs. Hollister say?" "Maybe she did. I didn't notice." The girl was tugging at her glove.
Rankin and I have discussed Lydia as well as other weighty matters, a great many times." Mrs. Sandworth's easily diverted mind sped off into another channel. "Yes, how you do discuss. I'm going to look right at the clock every minute from now on, so's to be sure to remind you of that engagement at Judge Emery's office at half-past nine. I know what happens when you and Mr. Rankin get to talking."
Occasionally, of late, with her godfather, Lydia had displayed a certain uncompromising directness, rather out of character with her usual gentleness, which the doctor found very disconcerting. He was silent now. Mrs. Sandworth's greater simplicity saw no difficulties in the way of an answer.
Sandworth's long-dead husband, thought it necessary, from time to time, to endeavor to stir her sister-in-law up to a keener sense of what was due the world in the matter of personal appearance; but Mrs. Sandworth, born a Melton, had the irritating unconcern for social problems of that distinguished Kentucky family.
The doctor rubbed his face furiously, as though to brush off a disagreeable clinging web. "He hasn't had to be. There have been plenty of other forces to do his rolling for him." "If you mean her father you know he's kept his hands off religiously." "He has that, damn him!" The doctor raged about the room. A silent prayer for patience wrote itself on Mrs. Sandworth's face.
Sandworth's cheerful capacities was for continuing tranquilly the minute processes of everyday life through every disturbance in the region of the emotions. You had to, she said, to get them done anybody that lived with the doctor.
"To think of its being our little Lydia who's the center of all this!" murmured Mrs. Sandworth, her loving eyes glistening with affectionate pride. "It really is a splendid scene, isn't it, Marius?" "If they were all gagged, it might be. Lord! how they yell!" "Oh, at a reception!" Mrs. Sandworth's accent denoted that the word was an explanation. "People have to, to make themselves heard."
"Well, what is it now?" she asked. He had not heard her enter, and now flashed around, casting in her face like a hard-thrown missile, "Lydia's engaged." All Mrs. Sandworth's lassitude vanished. She flung herself on him in a wild outcry of inquiry "Which one? Which one?" He answered her angrily, "Which do you suppose? Doesn't a steam-roller make some impression on a rose?"
Sandworth's, or of her husband's, and Mrs. Sandworth is Dr. Melton's sister. You're the big-eyed little girl who used to sit in a corner and sew while the doctor and I talked, and now," he brought it out rotundly, "you've been to Europe for a year, and you're grown-up." Lydia hung her head laughingly at his good-natured caricature. "Well, but I have, really and truly," she protested, "all of that.
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