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"I've been in the course of the last week to most of the public-houses in Southminster and Westhope and Warpington to see what sort of stuff they sold, and upon my soul, gentlemen, if I settled in Warpington I'd, I'd" Dick hesitated for a simile strong enough "I'd turn teetotaler until I left it again, rather than swallow the snake poison they serve out to you."
Therefore, Wulf could find pleasure even in an errand to Southminster to buy wine, of which, in truth, he would have been glad to drink deeply, if only to drown his thoughts awhile. So away he rode up Steeple Hill with the Prior, laughing as he used to do before Rosamund led him to gather flowers at St. Peter's-on-the-Wall.
Doll at least asked no questions. He had never asked but one in his life, and that had been of his wife, five seconds before he had become engaged to her. He accepted with equanimity the information that Hester had returned to Southminster, and departed to impart the same to his exasperated wife. "But why did she go back? She had only that moment arrived," inquired Sybell. How should Doll know.
On one side a door opened upon the three little parlours that were used when the party was small; at the back a lobby led into the old hall itself; on the third side was the door used by the servants. Lord Southminster himself was still a young man, who had not yet married.
On his bicycle on the smooth-shaven lawn was Dick, wheeling slowly in and out among the stone-edged flower-beds, an apricot in each broad palm, while he discoursed in a dispassionate manner to the two excited little boys who were making futile rushes for the apricots. The governess and Rachel were looking on. Rachel had arrived at Westhope the day before from Southminster.
The Cardinal passed over the sheets one by one as he finished them. One set was being brought straight up here from the little office at the end of the hall. Another set, they knew, was simultaneously being read aloud by Lord Southminster in the hall below.
Twenty minutes had now elapsed and no further message had been received. Monsignor looked up at the Victorian clock over the carved mantelpiece and glanced at his host. The young man's eyes met his own. "It's twenty-five past nine," said Lord Southminster. The Cardinal looked up. He had not spoken for three or four minutes, but otherwise had shown no signs of discomposure.
Southminster was ten miles from Warpington, eleven according to the Loftus Arms, from which it issued, the owner of which was not on happy terms with his "teetotal" vicar. Yet it had been absolutely necessary to have the fly, in order that Regie, who so easily caught cold, might return in safety. The dusk was already falling, and more snow with it. It was quite dark when Mrs.
The special presents which stood out from this chaos of common place were a rivière of diamonds from the Earl of Southminster, a cashmere shawl from Her Majesty, a basket of orchids, valued at five hundred guineas, from Lady Ellangowan, a pair of priceless crackle jars, a Sèvres dinner-service of the old bleu-du-roi, a set of knives of which the handles had all been taken from stags slaughtered by the Southminster hounds.
"You have never properly come out, you know, dear," she said; "but at Southminster you will be seen by everybody; and, as I daresay Lady Ellangowan will take you under her wing, you'll be seen to the best advantage." "Do you think Lady Ellangowan's wing will make any difference in me?" inquired Vixen. "It will make a great deal of difference in the Southminster set," replied Mrs.
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