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Updated: May 2, 2025
"He is ten times worse. I cannot tell you what has been his life." "Papa, I have often thought that in our rank of life society is responsible for the kind of things which young men do. If he was at Goodwood, which I do not believe, so was Mr. Stackpoole. If he was betting, so was Mr. Stackpoole." "But Mr. Stackpoole did not lie." "I don't know that," she said, with a little toss of her head.
Stackpoole had written to Cousin George, and Cousin George had thought it wise to make no reply. Sir Harry, however, from other sources had convinced himself of the truth, and had told his daughter that there was evidence enough to prove the fact in any court of law. Emily when so informed had simply held her tongue, and had resolved to hate Mrs. Stackpoole worse than ever.
Stackpoole was a lady of some determination, and one who in society liked to show that she was right in her assertions, and well informed on matters in dispute; and she hated Cousin George. There had therefore come to be a good deal said about the Goodwood meeting, so that the affair reached Sir Harry's ears.
All except Sylvestre, who had gone to sleep in the enchanted gardens far, far away, at the other side of the earth. From "In Blue Waters," BY H. DE VERE STACKPOOLE The Heart of Ireland was spreading her wings to the north-west trades, making a good seven knots, with the coast of California a vague line on the horizon to port and all the blue Pacific before her.
"I don't see anything particularly uncommon in him, after all," said Lady Blood. "I think he is very nice indeed," said Mrs. Flood Jones. "So very quiet, my dear, and just like other people," said Mrs. Callaghan, meaning to pronounce a strong eulogium on the Cabinet Minister. "Very like other people indeed," said Lady Blood. "And what would you expect, Lady Blood?" said Mrs. Stackpoole.
He was obliged to acknowledge so much, not quite knowing what Stackpoole might have said or done. "But I can explain that." "There is no need whatever of any explanation. Do you generally borrow money from such ladies as Mrs. Morton?" Cousin George blushed when this question was asked, but made no answer to it. It was one that he could not answer. "But it makes no difference, Captain Hotspur.
They may prove if they like that he was on all the racecourses in the world, and get that Mrs. Stackpoole to swear to it; and it is ten times worse for a woman to go than it is for a man, at any rate; but it will make no difference. If you and Papa tell me not to see him or write to him, much less to marry him, of course I shall obey you.
Callaghan from the brewery there, and old Lady Blood, of Bloodstone, who on ordinary occasions would hardly admit that she was on dining-out terms with any one in Killaloe except the bishop, but who had found it impossible to decline to meet a Cabinet Minister, and there was Mrs. Stackpoole from Sixmiletown, a far-away cousin of the Finns, who hated Lady Blood with a true provincial hatred.
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