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Updated: May 11, 2025
And the curious thing was that Alderman Keats never again mentioned his gout. James Peake and his wife, and Enoch Lovatt, his wife's half-sister's husband, and Randolph Sneyd, the architect, were just finishing the usual Saturday night game of solo whist in the drawing-room of Peake's large new residence at Hillport, that unique suburb of Bursley.
"Iphigenia," said I. "Was that the chap?" he said cheerily. "And now I've got you, come along to the house. I've more to tell you than there is in all your silly old Virgil, and it's alive, man, alive, alive. That's why it suits me. Come along, Noll. Lord Brocton's supping and staying with dad, so's Sneyd, and a lot more, and you'll hear all the news.
He sat in the arm-chair by the fire; my mother in the opposite arm-chair, Pakenham in the chair behind her, Francis on a stool at her feet, Maria beside them; William next, Lucy, Sneyd; on the sofa opposite the fire, as when you were here, Honora, Fanny, Harriet, and Sophy; my aunts next to my father, and Lovell between them and the sofa.
Nobody can go against the kind of luck you had that night; and you took it away from Sneyd and me in rolls. But we'll land you pretty soon, won't we, ole Sneydie?" "We sh'll have a shawt at him, at least," said the Englishman. "Perhaps he won't want us to try," young Cooley pursued derisively. "Perhaps he thinks I play like a goat, too!" Mr. Pedlow threw back his head and roared.
"'Yes, I says, 'Mack, I says, 'if you'll drop it, I'll turn in and git you the nomination." "Did he drop it?" asked Mellin innocently. Mr. Pedlow leaned forward and struck the young man's knee a resounding blow with the palm of his hand. "He was nominated, wasn't he?" "Time to dress," announced Mr. Sneyd, looking at his watch. "One more round first," insisted Cooley with prompt vehemence.
Dain would hold sewing meetings in the drawing-room, and would stand chattering with tradesmen at the front door, and would drive out to Sneyd to pay a call on Leonora and tell her how pleased they all were with the place! 'Do you absolutely need the money, John? She came to the point with a frank, blunt directness which angered him.
And then my not being happy at home exposed me to the danger of being too happy elsewhere." When he began to feel as if the sunshine of his life emanated from his friendship with Miss Sneyd, he was certain flight was the only safety. So leaving Mrs.
Besides, Pedlow was a man of distinction and force; he had been in Congress; he was a millionaire; and, as became evident in the course of a long recital of the principal events of his career, most of the great men of the time were his friends and proteges. "Pahfictly," said Mr. Sneyd, lighting a cigar with great calmness.
Sneyd Hall, belonging to the Earl of Chell, lies a few miles south of the Five Towns, and from it the pretty Countess of Chell exercises that condescending meddlesomeness which so frequently exasperates the Five Towns. Sir Jee had got his title by the aid of the Countess-'Interfering Iris', as she is locally dubbed.
He laughed again, took out his knife, and cut a fresh cigar. "You don't think of your poor wife," said Mrs Peake, "who's lost over three shillings," and she nudged Randolph Sneyd. "Here, Nan," Peake answered quickly. "You shall have the lot." He dropped the eleven and fourpence into the kitty-shell, and pushed it across the table to her. "Thank you, James," said Mrs Peake.
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