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Updated: June 28, 2025
He laid his hat, as Vanderbank had done, in three places in succession and appeared to question scarcely less the safety, somewhere, of his umbrella and the grace of retaining in his hand his gloves. He postponed the final selection of a seat and he looked at the objects about him while he spoke of other matters. Quite in the same fashion indeed at last these objects impressed him.
Vanderbank walked after a moment into the second room, which also proved empty and which had its little globes of white fire discreetly limited in number coated with lemon-coloured silk. The walls, covered with delicate French mouldings, were so fair that they seemed vaguely silvered; the low French chimney had a French fire.
"That's a neat one for ME!" Vanderbank declared. "And I like your talk about your antediluvian 'time." "Oh it's all over." "What exactly is it," Vanderbank presently demanded, "that you describe in that manner?" "Well, my little hour. And the danger of picking up." "There's none of it here?" Nanda appeared frankly to judge. "No because, really, Tishy, don't you see? is natural. We just talk."
"And yet to think that after all it has been mere TALK!" Something in her tone again made her hearers laugh out; so it was still with the air of good humour that Vanderbank answered: "Mere, mere, mere. But perhaps it's exactly the 'mere' that has made us range so wide." Mrs. Brook's intelligence abounded. "You mean that we haven't had the excuse of passion?"
Yet she made at the end a sort of choice in going on to Mitchy: "He hasn't at all told you the real reason of Nanda's idea that you should go in for Aggie." "Oh I draw the line there," said Vanderbank. "Besides, he understands that too." Mitchy, on the spot, did himself and every one justice. "Why it just disposes of me, doesn't it?"
I defy you to 'arrange' that young lady in any such manner without also arranging ME. I'm one of her greatest admirers," he gaily announced to Mr. Longdon. Vanderbank said nothing, and Mr.
"Are there no nice ones now?" "Oh yes, there must be lots. In fact I know quantities." This had the effect of pulling the stranger up. "Ah 'quantities'! There it is." "Yes," said Mitchy, "fancy the 'lady' in her millions. Have you come up to London, wondering, as you must, about what's happening for Vanderbank mentioned, I think, that you HAVE come up in pursuit of her?"
"Yes, on that we ARE stiff. Five pounds, please." Mitchy drew out his pocket-book even though he explained. "What I mean is that I don't give out the great thing." With which he produced a crisp banknote. "DON'T you?" asked Vanderbank, who, having taken it from him to hand to Mrs. Brook, held it a moment, delicately, to accentuate the doubt. "The great thing's the sacred terror.
"Oh dear when Mitchy 'tries'!" Vanderbank laughed. "I think I should rather, for the job, offer him to Mr. Longdon abandoned to his native wild impulse." "I LIKE Mr. Mitchett," the old man said, endeavouring to look his hostess straight in the eye and speaking as if somewhat to defy her to convict him, even from the point of view of Beccles, of a mistake. Mrs.
Presenting himself at Buckingham Crescent three days after the Sunday spent at Mertle, Vanderbank found Lady Fanny Cashmore in the act of taking leave of Mrs. Brook and found Mrs. Brook herself in the state of muffled exaltation that was the mark of all her intercourse and most of all perhaps of her farewells with Lady Fanny.
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