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Updated: June 23, 2025
"I might almost as well be a paid dame de compagnie," Miss Scrotton had more than once murmured to herself with a lip that trembled; and, obscurely, she realised that close association with the great might reveal one as insignificant rather than as glorified.
"Hasn't Miss Scrotton written?" "Does my cousin keep you posted as a rule?" Gregory asked, as Karen shook her head. "No; but Tante asks her to write sometimes, when she is too tired or rushed; and I had a letter from her, giving me their plans, only a few days ago; so that I know that all is well.
It made him so happy. We were with him till he died." "Shall I see you again?" Gregory asked. "Will you be here for any time? Are you staying in London?" "My guardian goes to America next week did you not know? with Miss Scrotton." "Oh yes, Eleanor told me. And you're not going too? You're not to see America yet?" "No; not this time. I go to Cornwall." "You are to be alone with Mrs.
Drew and of her friends into the bargain. "But my contention and my fear is," she said, "that he will make mincemeat of her before he is done with her." Miss Scrotton did not rank highly for wisdom in Mrs. Forrester's estimation; but for her perspicacity and intelligence she had more regard than she cared to admit.
Talcott," said Miss Scrotton, indulging her gloomy humour. "Oh, yes; the Jardines went down, and Mrs. Morton;" Mrs. Morton was a married sister of Gregory's. "Lady Jardine has very much taken to the child you know. They have given her a lovely little tiara." "Dear me," said Miss Scrotton; "it is a case of Cinderella.
Victor is Mercedes's dog, her dearly loved dog," said Miss Scrotton, her impatience with an ignorance that she suspected of wilfulness tempered, as usual, by the satisfaction of giving any and every information about Madame von Marwitz. "It is a sort of superstition with her that he should always be on the platform to see her off.
But she isn't interesting," Miss Scrotton again assured him. "She is literal and unemotional, and, in some ways, distinctly dull. I have seen the poor fairy-godmother sigh and shrug sometimes over her inordinately long letters. She writes to her with relentless regularity and I really believe that she imagines that Mercedes quite depends on hearing from her.
"And what kind of American is Miss Woodruff? The other kind or Mrs. Talcott's kind?" "By the other kind I mean Lady Jardine's," said Miss Scrotton; "or no; she constitutes a further variety; the rarest of all; the kind who would never think about Mrs. Talcott one way or the other. But surely Karen is no kind at all. Could you call her an American? She has never been there.
I am afraid she will be very tired. But Miss Scrotton will take care of her. Sincerely yours, "Karen Woodruff." "Les Solitudes, "March 17th. "Dear Mr. Jardine, I have taken up my pen for only two purposes since I left London to write my weekly letter to my guardian and to thank you over and over again. Only now you have quite spoiled Mrs.
I've seen too much; I know too much; she fears me, Mrs. Forrester. She knows that I know that Claude Drew is punishing her now for having snubbed him in America." "My dear Eleanor," Mrs. Forrester murmured distressfully. "You exaggerate that young man's significance." "Dear Mrs. Forrester," Miss Scrotton returned, almost now with a solemn exasperation, "I wish it were possible to exaggerate it.
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