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Updated: May 31, 2025
"You don't go yet!" Mr. Vanborough came forward to interfere. His wife eyed him with a terrible look, and turned from him with a terrible contempt. "That man has lied!" she said. "In justice to myself, I insist on proving it!" She struck a bell on a table near her. The servant came in. "Fetch my writing-desk out of the next room."
"'Because nothing of the sort is necessary. If the facts of the case are correctly stated there is not the slightest doubt about the law." With that reply Mr. Delamayn took a written paper from his pocket, and spread it out on the table before him. "What is that?" asked Mr. Vanborough. "The case relating to your marriage." Mr.
"There is some misapprehension here, for which I am in no way responsible. I am not that lady's husband." It was Lady Jane's turn to be astonished. She looked at the lawyer. Useless! Mr. Delamayn had set himself right Mr. Delamayn declined to interfere further. He silently took a chair at the other end of the room. Lady Jane addressed Mr. Vanborough.
Arriving, naturally enough, at this erroneous conclusion, Lady Jane's eyes rested for an instant on Mrs. Vanborough with a finely contemptuous expression of inquiry which would have roused the spirit of the tamest woman in existence. The implied insult stung the wife's sensitive nature to the quick. She turned once more to her husband this time without flinching. "Who is that woman?" she asked.
Vanborough told me you were that gentleman's wife." Mr. Vanborough whispered fiercely to his wife through his clenched teeth. "The whole thing is a mistake. Go into the garden again!" Mrs. Vanborough's indignation was suspended for the moment in dread, as she saw the passion and the terror struggling in her husband's face. "How you look at me!" she said. "How you speak to me!"
Vanborough was tall and dark a dashing, handsome man; with an energy in his face which all the world saw; with an inbred falseness under it which only a special observer could detect. Mr. Kendrew was short and light slow and awkward in manner, except when something happened to rouse him. Looking in his face, the world saw an ugly and undemonstrative little man.
Is there such a thing as hereditary love as well?" Before the guest could answer, his attention was claimed by the master of the house. "Kendrew," said Mr. Vanborough, "when you have had enough of domestic sentiment, suppose you take a glass of wine?" The words were spoken with undisguised contempt of tone and manner. Mrs. Vanborough's color rose.
Vanborough returned the bow coldly entered the room first and then answered, "Yes." Lady Jane turned to Mr. Vanborough. "Present me!" she said, submitting resignedly to the formalities of the middle classes. Mr. Vanborough obeyed, without looking at his wife, and without mentioning his wife's name. "Lady Jane Parnell," he said, passing over the introduction as rapidly as possible.
Lady Jane was equal to the emergency. The manner in which she wrapped herself up in her own virtue, without the slightest pretension on the one hand, and without the slightest compromise on the other, was a sight to see. "Mr. Vanborough," she said, "you offered to take me to my carriage just now. I begin to understand that I had better have accepted the offer at once. Give me your arm."
The only hardship that I complain of is the hardship of having the house to let." Mr. Vanborough looked across the table, as ungraciously as possible, at his wife. "What have you to do with it?" he asked. Mrs. Vanborough tried to clear the conjugal horizon b y a smile. "My dear John," she said, gently, "you forget that, while you are at business, I am here all day.
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