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Updated: June 4, 2025
But Tembarom's imagination was more athletic. "Jinks! wouldn't it be fine to take her there! The lark in London wouldn't be ace high to it." The Hutchinsons were not New Yorkers, but they had been part of the atmosphere of Mrs. Bowse's. Mr. Hutchinson would of course be rather a forward and pushing man to be obliged to meet, but Little Ann! She did so like Little Ann!
So he was taken up to the fourth floor and put into Tembarom's bed. The hot milk-punch seemed to take the chill out of him, and when, by lying on his pillow and gazing at the shakedown on the floor as long as he could keep his eyes open, he had convinced himself that Tembarom was going to stay with him, he fell asleep. Little Ann went back to her father carrying a roll of bills in her hands.
"Confound it!" he said next, wrinkling the thin, fine skin round his eyes in a speculative smile, "I wish I had had a son of my own just like you." All of Tembarom's white teeth revealed themselves. "I'd have liked to have been in it," he replied, "but I shouldn't have been like me." "Yes, you would." The duke put the tips of his fingers delicately together.
Temple Barholm; there were few, of course, who could know less. But he had never shown the faintest desire to seek one out. Palliser, it is true, suggested it was Tembarom's "cheek" which stood him in good stead.
His wet clothes had been decent, and his broken, terrified voice was neither coarse nor nasal. He lifted his head and caught Tembarom's arm, clutching it with desperate fingers. "Could you?" he poured forth the words. "Could you? I'm not quite mad. Something happened. If I could be quiet! Don't let them stop me! My God! my God! my God! I can't say it. It's not far away, but it won't come back.
London no one but herself or an elderly gentlewoman of her type could have told any one the nature of her thoughts of London. Let, therefore, those of vivid imagination make an effort to depict to themselves the effect produced upon her mind by Tembarom's casually suggesting at breakfast one morning that he thought it might be rather a good "stunt" for them to run up to London.
But no one looked jocular Tembarom's jaw was set in its hard line, and the duke, taking up the broad ribbon of his rimless monocle to fix the glass in his eye, wore the expression of a man whose sense of humor was temporarily in abeyance. "Are we to understand that your Grace ?" "Yes," said his Grace a trifle curtly, "I have known about it for some time."
Palliser half laughed again. He did not mean to go too quickly; he would let the thing get on Tembarom's nerves gradually. "Well, I'm hanged if I didn't take him for a man who is dead." "Enough to give any fellow a jolt," Tembarom admitted again. "It gave me a `jolt. Good word, that. But it would give you a bigger one, my dear fellow, if he was the man he looked like." "Why?"
This was a novel order of madness to reveal itself in the recent inheritor of a great fortune. Tembarom's appeal grew franker; it took on the note of a too crude young fellow's misplaced confidence. "You do this for me," he said. "I'd give a farm to go on that boat. The Hutchinsons are sailing on it Mr. and Miss Hutchinson, the ones you saw at the house last night."
It was she who "conversed" during their walk, and while she trotted by Tembarom's side looking more early-Victorian than ever in a neat, fringed mantle and a small black bonnet of a fashion long decently interred by a changing world, Tembarom had never seen anything resembling it in New York; but he liked it and her increasingly at every moment. It was he who made her converse.
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