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Updated: June 23, 2025
To be sure, he couldn't use violence, nor would he try; but if he found me here he would "have it out" with me, and he would tell things to Lady Turnour which would induce her to send me about my business with short shrift. He could say that I'd run away from my relatives, who were also my guardians, and altogether he could make out a case against me which would look a dark brown, if not black.
Eventually he threatened to spin me out to Royat, but I pleaded the certainty that Lady Turnour would wish to change into her smartest tea-gown for "feef oclocky" and that I must be there to assist at the ceremony.
Now, just as the discussion was decided in favour of stopping over night at Fontainebleau, he appeared again, in the cart. We were so near the hotel in the woods that we could be towed there in half an hour, and, ignominious as the situation was, Lady Turnour preferred it to the greater evil of walking.
I went down slowly, reluctantly, the melancholy charm of the place catching at my dress as I walked, like the supplicating fingers of a ghost condemned to dumbness. There was one rock-hewn house I had wanted to see, coming up, which Lady Turnour had scorned, saying "when you've been in one, you've been in all."
"Ontray!" cried her ladyship. The door opened. Mr. Herbert Stokes stood on the threshold. "I say, Lady T " he began, when he saw the scarlet vision, and stopped. "What is it?" inquired the wife of his stepfather rather a complicated relation. "I er wanted " drawled Bertie. "But it doesn't matter. Another time." "You needn't mind her," said Lady Turnour, with a nod toward me. "It's only my maid.
"Pretty gorgeous, aren't you?" he remarked to Lady Turnour; but she was flattered rather than annoyed by the criticism, and sailed away good-natured, leaving me to gather up the few jewels of her collection which she had discarded.
He has shown me very plainly that he is one of those typical, unsusceptible Englishmen French writers put in their books, men with hearts whose every compartment is warranted love-tight. Lady Turnour opened her heart and her wardrobe and gave me a blouse the first thing in the morning, which act of generosity was the more remarkable as morning is not her best time.
"Well," remarked Lady Turnour, taken aback by this extraordinary plea, as well she might have been, "I don't like to tell a person out and out that I don't believe a word he says, but I do go as far as this: I'll believe you when I see you making the sketch.
"Besides, I can't stand Lady Turnour after what's happened with you gone." "Of course you won't mind," I went on. "It's different for a man. If you were left and I going, it wouldn't matter, because you'd have the car. But I've nothing except Lady Turnour's 'transformation. Luckily, she won't want me to stop." "I think she will," he said, "because your only fault was in having an accident.
It had brought us to older places, but within this walled quadrangle it was as if we had come full tilt into a picture; and the automobile was not an artistic touch. Ingrate that I was, I turned my back upon the Aigle, and was thankful when Sir Samuel and Lady Turnour walked out of my sight around the corner of the picture.
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