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Updated: June 6, 2025
"She said she saw so many things to envy in me, that she could scarcely believe I wanted to be at all like her." "It was a very civil speech," said Barold ironically. "I scarcely thought Lady Theobald had trained her so well." "She meant it," said Octavia. "You mayn't believe it, but she did. I know when people mean things, and when they don't." "I wish I did," said Barold.
And Professor Theobald led the conversation airily on; talking fluently, and at times brilliantly, but always with that indefinable touch of something ignoble, something coarse, that now filled Hadria with unspeakable dismay. She was terrified lest the other two should go, and he should remain. And yet she ought to speak frankly to him.
And Duncan Argyll, alias Dinky-Dunk, is rather reserved and quiet and, I'm afraid, rather masterful, but not as Theobald Gustav might have been, for with all his force the modern German, it seems to me, is like the bagpipes in being somewhat lacking in suavity. And all the way over Dinky-Dunk was so nice that he almost took my breath away.
That part of their talk which he overheard told him that the man was a blackmailer, and that he was making money on the fact that he had caught Theobald Leining cheating at cards. This chance had put the officer into Winkler's power.
I can at least fight for it, losing battle though it be." The only person who seemed to resist Hadria's influence to-night, was Mrs. Jordan, the mother of Marion Fenwick. "My dear madam," said Professor Theobald, bending over the portly form of Mrs. Jordan, "a woman's first duty is to be charming."
Her papa and mamma were very estimable people and would in the course of time receive Heavenly Mansions in which they would be exceedingly comfortable; so doubtless would her sisters; so perhaps, even might her brothers; but for herself she felt that a higher destiny was preparing, which it was her duty never to lose sight of. The first step towards it would be her marriage with Theobald.
The English Church, "to whose right it principally belongs to elect the king," as Theobald had once said in words which Gregory VII. would have approved, beat down all opposition of the angry nobles; and in November 1153 Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester and brother of Stephen, brought about a final compromise.
In my room I sat down and tried calmly to reason out the matter. Here was I, Theobald Jack Pansay, a well-educated Bengal Civilian in the year of grace, 1885, presumably sane, certainly healthy, driven in terror from my sweetheart's side by the apparition of a woman who had been dead and buried eight months ago. These were facts that I could not blink.
"Your ruling passion is power over others." "It has been sadly thwarted then," she answered, with a nervous laugh. "Thwarted? Surely not. What more can you want than to touch the emotions of every one who comes across your path? It is a splendid power, and ought to be more satisfying to the possessor than a gift of any other kind." Professor Theobald waited for her reply, but she made none.
Theobald, as an old fellow and tutor of Emmanuel at which college he had entered Ernest was able to obtain from the present tutor a certain preference in the choice of rooms; Ernest's, therefore, were very pleasant ones, looking out upon the grassy court that is bounded by the Fellows' gardens. Theobald accompanied him to Cambridge, and was at his best while doing so.
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