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Updated: June 12, 2025
Alwynn, nodding to her. "Mrs. Thursby would not believe it at first, and afterwards she said she was afraid there would not be any party; but there was, Ruth. There was a married couple, very nice people, of the name of Reynolds. I dare say, being London people, you may have known them.
He admired a pallid water-color drawing of Venice, in an enormous frame on an enormous easel, which he rightly supposed to be the manual labor of Mabel Thursby. When he rose to take his leave, young Thursby, intensely flattered by having been asked for that opinion on cartridges by so renowned a shot as Charles, offered to walk part of the way back with him.
Twice she was stopped, but on a third attempt Brimfield broke squarely in two where Thursby was substituting Captain Innes and half the visiting team piled through. First down was secured on another attack at the same place and the ball was on the defender's sixteen yards.
Then the best of him rose to the occasion. "I told Thursby that I hadn't anything to take back, but that you're a man, for all of it And if you Damn it! There's my hand." "Done!" said Haig heartily. "Oh!" cried Claire, breaking away from the mantel, to which she clung through all the interview, trembling between hope and fear. She stepped up to Haig, her eyes shining through tears.
"Very well!" said Thursby. "He's coming to see you this afternoon." "What?" cried Huntington. "He's coming this afternoon. And he wished me to say explicitly that he will have no gun." To Huntington this seemed almost incredible. He was heartily sick of the warfare, and glad of any way out of it that would not be too humiliating to himself.
Admiral Thursby tells me he himself counted 240 shells falling on one of Birdwood's trenches in the space of ten minutes. I asked him if that amounted to one shell per yard and he said the whole length of the trench was less than 100 yards. On the 18th fifty heavy shells, including 12-inch and 14-inch, dropped out of the blue vault of heaven on to the Anzacs.
Alwynn was sitting bolt upright, her feet upon the floor, her gown upon the sofa. Her astonished eyes were fixed upon the dwindling figures of Mr. Alwynn and Charles. "Goodness, Ruth!" she exclaimed, "who is that white waistcoat walking with your uncle?" Ruth explained. "Dear me! And as likely as not he came to see the new screen. I know Mrs. Thursby tells everybody about it.
Alwynn, as she and Ruth drove away together, "though Mrs. Thursby has not such a knack with her table as some. Not that I did not think the chrysanthemums and white china swans were nice, very nice; but, you see, as I told her, I had just been to Stoke Moreton, where things were very different. And you looked very well, my dear, though not so bright and chatty as Mabel; and Mrs.
Thursby said she only hoped your waist was natural. The idea! And I saw Lady Carmian notice your gown particularly, and I heard her ask who you were, and Mrs. Thursby said so like her you were their clergyman's niece.
Thursby stayed in bed when her finger was bad," said Mrs. Alwynn to Ruth, when Mr. Alwynn had condoled, and had made his escape to his study. "She always gives way so; but I never was like that. I was up all the same, my dear." "I hope it does not hurt very much," said Ruth, anxious to be sympathetic, but succeeding only in being commonplace. "It's not only the pain," said Mrs.
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