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Updated: May 11, 2025
Alice was quite aware that Lady Glencora had contrived some little scheme that Mr Palliser should be riding next to her. She liked Mr Palliser, and therefore had no objection; but she declared to herself that her cousin was a goose for her pains. "Mrs Sparkes says you ought to go into Parliament." "Yes; and the dear Duchess would perhaps suggest a house in Belgrave Square.
The Arabs from their loopholed houses made a stubborn resistance, and the 4th battalion by the river-bank were sharply engaged, their commanding officer, Captain Sparkes, having his horse shot in four places.
A habit of computing steadies the mind, and subdues the soarings of imagination. It sobers the vagaries of trope and figure, substitutes truth for metaphor, and exactness for amplification. This girl, who if she had been fed on poetry and works of imagination, might have become a Miss Sparkes, now rather gives herself the airs of a calculator and of a grave computist.
"Let's get out of this crowd beastly, isn't it?" "I don't mind a crowd. I like it when I've someone to hang on by." "Oh, I don't mind it, I like just what you like. What time did you say it was, Miss Sparkes?" "Just eleven. Time I was gettin' 'ome. There'll be a bus at the corner." "I hoped you were going to walk," urged Christopher timidly.
Stay! one other person knew the true name of Mrs. Clover's husband Polly Sparkes. "Polly be hanged," muttered Gammon. "When is the wedding?" Greenacre inquired casually in one of their conversations. "Wedding? Whose wedding?" "Why, yours." Gammon's face darkened. A change had come about in his emotions.
On the next floor it was dark, but Mr. Gammon saw a gleam along the bottom of Polly's door. He knocked the knock of a policeman armed with a warrant. "Miss Sparkes!" "Oh, it's you this time, is it? Come just to say good night? You needn't have put yourself out." "Miss Sparkes, are you in your proper dress?" "What d'you mean?" Polly answered resentfully. "You've been drinking again, I suppose."
Miss Sparkes was neither beautiful nor stately, but her appearance had the sort of distinction which corresponds to these qualities in the society of Kennington Road; she filled an appreciable space in the eyes of Mr. She was but two-and-twenty. Mr. Gammon had reached his fortieth year. In general his tone of intimacy passed without rebuke; at moments it had seemed not unacceptable.
"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed an old lady who had been rather awed by Alice's intimacy and cousinship with Lady Glencora; "it's the very last thing I should have dreamt of." "But I didn't dream it, first or last," said Mrs Sparkes. "Why do you ask?" said Lady Glencora. "Don't suppose that I am asking whether Miss Vavasor is an admirer of his," said Mrs Sparkes.
Miss Sparkes neither observed the joke nor resented the name; she was listening with a preoccupied air. "You'll never find him," said Mrs. Bubb, shaking her head. "Don't be so sure of that. I shan't lose sight of this man Quodling. It's the strangest likeness I ever saw, and I shan't be satisfied till I've got to know if he has any connexion with the name of Clover.
And all because she said the water would have to be 'otted. And Mr. Gammon wanted his breakfast in bed, and and why, there now, it had all been drove out of her mind by that Miss Sparkes. Mrs. Here and there about the kitchen ran four children, who were snatching a sort of picnic breakfast whilst they made ready for school.
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