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Updated: June 19, 2025
His mustachioed mouth wore a set smile; his cheerful face was rather red, with a forehead of no extravagant height or breadth, and a conspicuous jaw; his hair was thick and light in colour, and his eyes were small, grey, and shrewd. He was looking at a picture. "He's so delightfully unconscious," murmured Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace.
Her attitude of mind towards them was, in fact, similar-a sort of pleasurable dread-to that in which she purchased the Westminster Gazette to feel the pulse of social progress. Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace's dark little eyes twinkled. "I hear that Mr. Stone that is your father's name, I think is writing a book which will create quite a sensation when it comes out." Cecilia bit her lips.
"Poor old chap! he's so rococo...." "There's a new man. "She's very sympathetic. "But the condition of the poor.... "Is that Mr. Balladyce? Oh, really. "It gives you such a feeling of life. "Bourgeois!..." The voice of Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace broke through: "But do please tell me who is that young girl with the young man looking at the picture over there. She's quite charming!"
The tall thin man put his hand on Cecilia's arm, saying gently: "Hallo Cis! Stephen here yet?" Cecilia shook her head. "You know Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace, Hilary?" The tall man bowed. His hazel-coloured eyes were shy, gentle, and deep-set; his eyebrows, hardly ever still, gave him a look of austere whimsicality.
"In the F.H.M.P., of course, I see a lot of young girls placed in delicate positions, just on the borders, don't you know? You should really join the F.H.M.P., Mrs. Dallison. It's a first-rate thing most absorbing work." The doubting deepened in Cecilia's eyes. "Oh, it must be!" she said. "I've so little time." Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace went on at once.
His dark brown hair was very lightly touched with grey, and a frequent kindly smile played on his lips. His unmannerised manner was quiet to the point of extinction. He had long, thin, brown hands, and nothing peculiar about his dress. "I'll leave you to talk to Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace," Cecilia said. A knot of people round Mr.
Tallents Smallpeace, he added: "How do you do? We met the other day." "We did," said Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace, whose little eyes were sparkling. "We talked about the poor, do you remember?" Mr. Purcey, a sensitive man if you could get through his skin, gave her a shrewd look. 'I don't quite cotton to this woman, he seemed saying; 'there's a laugh about her I don't like.
To him it signified: 'What the deuce do you look at me for? And he felt justly hurt. He therefore said abruptly: "What would you do in a case like that?" Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace, sliding her face sideways, with a really charming little smile, asked softly: "In a case like what?" And her little eyes fled to Thyme, who had slipped into the room, and was whispering to her mother. Cecilia rose.
'She must come back she must listen to me! she thought. 'We will begin together; we will start a nice little creche of our own, or perhaps Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace could find us some regular work on one of her committees. Then suddenly she conceived a thought which made her blood run positively cold. What if it were a matter of heredity?
He had felt from the beginning that he was so much more the man to deal with an affair like this than poor old Hilary. When, therefore, Thyme put her head into his study and said, "Father, Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace!" he had first thought, 'That busybody! and then, 'I wonder perhaps I'd better go and see if I can get anything out of her.
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