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Updated: May 15, 2025
More than the prospect had at first promised or threatened she had felt herself going on in a crowd and with a multiplied escort; the four ladies pictured by her to Sir Luke Strett as a phalanx comparatively closed and detached had in fact proved a rolling snowball, condemned from day to day to cover more ground.
Densher had risen before her only to find his proper place in her imagination already, of a sudden, occupied. His personal fact failed, so far as she was concerned, to be personal, and her companion noted the failure. This could only mean that she was full to the brim, of Sir Luke Strett, and of what she had had from him. What had she had from him?
"They won't, however, be at dinner, the few people she expects they come round afterwards from their respective hotels; and Sir Luke Strett and his niece, the principal ones, will have arrived from London but an hour or two ago. It's for him she has wanted to do something to let it begin at once.
Betton laughed again, but Vyse continued without heeding him: "Look here, Betton could Strett have written them?" "Strett?" Betton roared. " Strett?" He threw himself into his arm-chair to shake out his mirth at greater ease. "I'll tell you why. Strett always posts all my answers. He comes in for them every day before I leave.
The worst would be that he was in love and that he needed a confidant to work it. And now she was going to the National Gallery. The idea of the National Gallery had been with her from the moment of her hearing from Sir Luke Strett about his hour of coming.
Strett, the valet, had been in, drawn the bath in the adjoining dressing-room, placed the crystal and silver cigarette-box at his side, put a match to the fire, and thrown open the windows to the bright morning air.
Lowder knew no impossibles. "She shall be." "Well if you'll help. He thinks, you know, we can help." Mrs. Lowder faced a moment, in her massive way, what Sir Luke Strett thought.
"Do you really accuse a man like Sir Luke Strett of trifling with you?" She couldn't blind herself to the look her companion gave her a strange half-amused perception of what she made of it. "Well, so far as it's trifling with me to pity me so much." "He doesn't pity you," Susie earnestly reasoned. "He just the same as any one else likes you." "He has no business then to like me.
Oh well, she seemed to say, if he would have it so! "You can do everything, you know." "Everything" was rather too much for him to take up gravely, and he modestly let it alone, speaking the next moment, to avert fatuity, of a different but a related matter. "Why has she sent for Sir Luke Strett if, as you tell me, she's so much better?" "She hasn't sent. He has come of himself," Mrs.
Betton had reverted only once to the subject to ask ironically, a day or two later: "Is Strett writing to me as much as ever?" and, on Vyse's replying with a neutral head-shake, had added with a laugh: "If you suspect him you might as well think I write the letters myself!"
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