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Updated: June 16, 2025
Also it was boring to see how stodgily George Vanneck was in love with Mrs. West, without shadow of turning, although Barbara had tried her hand, just for fun, at tempting him to turn. Even a worm would; but George Vanneck wouldn't, which made him seem so slow! And Mrs. West was a woman with only two smiles, and no real sense of humour.
Of course the sister fraud will be found out sooner or later; but the important thing in Mrs. Bal's mind seems to be that it shall be later." "Is it right for us to help her deceive poor Mr. Bennett?" asked Maud Vanneck, who is a person of earnest convictions. I chuckled at hearing the big chap called "poor," perhaps for the first time in his life; and even Somerled smiled.
People had grown accustomed to the fine appearance they made when together "Artie" was ruddy and stout and although Victoria reinforced her enemies, for Vanneck was one of the most agreeable and accomplished men in London, the artistic sense of that lenient world was tickled at their congruities and took their future mating for granted; Arthur Gwynne was sure to meet his death on the hunting-field, for he was far too heavy for a horse and rode vilely.
Bennett's sister asking Mr. and Mrs. Vanneck to make their visit to her as soon as possible, at that shooting lodge you told us about. They wanted to go, and I was the only thing that prevented them. But, of course, that idea is nonsense.
She was almost pathetically anxious not to produce the impression that this frantic journey had been undertaken on Ian's account. If she failed, she would put George Vanneck out of his long misery by marrying him. She would even say that they had been secretly engaged for some time. Anything rather than Somerled should suspect the truth. But she was going to try hard not to fail.
Bal and George Vanneck had sped away from Edinburgh on Sunday morning early, had a look at their rooms in Glasgow, and dashed on to Arrochar, where they all stopped till Monday afternoon. High green bank on one side, with cataracts of bracken delicate as maidenhair; dark rocks, wrapped in velvet moss. Trees holding up screens of green lace between your eyes and the blue water of the loch.
Vanneck would walk far ahead of us on the steep narrow paths, which were so slippery I had to let Basil help me, and it was most embarrassing and futile to keep refusing him all the time. He says we were meant for each other, but I know better! You remember, don't you, dear, I didn't want to take this trip? My feeling must have been a presentiment.
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