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Updated: June 7, 2025
It was almost as though she were riding through the country at home. She might have been hunting in Westchester, or on Long Island, for any actual difference that there was, and the finish, as at home, was merely anise seed, and the hounds were fed raw meat. Kate Titherington, daughter of Alonzo K. Titherington, the Pittsburg iron magnate, had some six years before married the Count Masco.
A third candidate had taken the field, a man in himself despicable, whose election was an impossibility; but capable perhaps of detaching from me a number of votes sufficient to put the Nationalist in the majority. "And O'Donoghue, let me tell you," said Titherington, "is a smart man and a right good speaker." "I'm not," I said. "I can see that." I do not profess to know how he saw it.
There's only one other letter ah! here it is. By the way, have you any opinions about woman's suffrage?" "Not one," I said, "but I don't, of course, want to be ragged if it can be avoided. Shall I pledge myself to get votes for all the unmarried women in the constituency, or ought I to go further?" Titherington looked at me severely.
As I had foreseen, he began to shovel the stuff into my mouth with the spoon. Titherington came over to my bedside. He pretended that he came to hold me up while McMeekin fed me. In reality he came to gloat. But I had my revenge. I pawed McMeekin with my hands and breathed full into his face. I also clutched Titherington's coat and pawed him.
Titherington was by this time talking with all his usual buoyant confidence, but I still caught the furtive look in his eyes which I had noticed at first. He seemed to me to have something to conceal, to be challenging criticism and to be preparing to defend himself. Now a man who is on the defensive and who wants to conceal something has generally acted in a way of which he is ashamed.
"Is Tithers another name for the Puffin?" "No," said Lalage. "Tithers is Joey P." "He signed his letter Joseph P.," said Hilda, "so at first we called him that." Titherington usually signs himself Joseph P. I inferred that he was Tithers. "You liked him?" I said. "In some ways he's rather an ass," said Lalage, "'and just at first I thought he was inclined to have too good an opinion of himself.
Lalage Beresford." "I was just sitting down to breakfast," said Titherington, "and I had to get up without swallowing so much as a cup of tea and hop on to a car. She's a tremendously prompt young woman." "She is," I said, "and always was." "You know her then?" "I've known her slightly since she was quite a little girl." "Why didn't you tell me so last night?"
I forgot all about the Association for the Suppression of Public Lying and its offer of help when I arrived in Ireland. Mr. Titherington came up to Dublin to meet me and showed every sign of keeping me very busy indeed. He turned out to be a timber merchant by profession, who organized elections by way of recreation whenever opportunity offered.
"Even the Nationalists would be obliged to admit that I'd done a particularly noble thing." "I don't believe Vittie has the influenza." "McMeekin said so." "It would be just like Vittie," said Titherington, "to pretend he had it so as to get an excuse for calling in McMeekin. He knows McMeekin has been wobbling ever since you got ill." This silenced me.
It seemed to me likely that there would be paper to show afterward. If Lalage has Selby-Harrison behind her she will go to that interview with an agreement in her pocket ready for signature. "All the same," I said, "I'd like to be there simply out of curiosity." Titherington shrugged his shoulders. "Very well," he said, "but let me do the talking.
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