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As for Miss Vanrenen, I see that she does not care what becomes of me." Cynthia weakened a little at that. Certainly she wondered why her model chauffeur chose to express his opinions so bluntly, while Marigny's unwillingness to take offense was admirable. "Is there no better plan?" she asked quickly, for Medenham had started the engine, and his hand was on the reversing lever.
He would have sent a note, but he remembered that you had never seen his handwriting, so, as a proof of my genuineness, he gave me your itinerary." Medenham produced a closely-written sheet of note-paper, which Miss Vanrenen presumably recognized. She turned to her stout companion, who had been summing up car and chauffeur with careful eyes since Medenham first spoke. "What do you think, Mrs.
He did not offer to put them in the car, adjust their wraps, and close the door. If Miss Vanrenen liked to keep her promise, that was her affair, but no action on his part would hint of prior knowledge that she intended to ride in front. Nevertheless, he could not repress a smile when he heard Mrs.
What I really want to know is the reason behind Simmonds's statement about Count Marigny's tale-pitching, as you term it." "Oh, of course Mr. Vanrenen didn't say anythink. Simmonds was what you call puttin' two an' two together. From what Mr. Vanrenen arsked him it was easy enough to get at the Frenchman's dirty tricks."
He smiled at the recollection of his dumb surprise at this apparition, and was in the best of humors with himself when he arrived at the inquiry office of the Savoy Hotel and asked for Mr. Peter Vanrenen. "Left here Sunday, sir," was the answer. "He will not return for a week." This blow dished his hopes.
Devar, Miss Vanrenen! what a delightful surprise!" cried the stranger with an accompaniment of wide smiles and hat flourishing. "Who would have thought of meeting you here? Voyez, donc, I was moping in solitude when suddenly the sky opens and you appear." "Deæ ex machinâ, in fact, Monsieur Marigny," said Cynthia, shaking hands with this overjoyed gentleman. Mrs.
He entered the hotel and wrote a letter: "My dear Miss Vanrenen " no pretense of "Madam" or other social formula, but a plain and large "My dear," with the name appended as a concession to the humbug of life, even in regard to the woman he loved "I am going to Hereford, but shall return here for luncheon. Mrs.
While the son was seeking forgetfulness in classifying a collection of moths and night flies caught during a week at La Turbie, the father found occupation in prosecuting diligent inquiries into the social and financial standing of Peter Vanrenen. As a result, the Earl visited Lady St. Maur, and, as a further result, Lady St. Maur wrote a very biting and sarcastic note to "My dear Millicent."
"He promised to run up to Shrewsbury to-day, but finds he cannot spare the time. Count Edouard told him that Mr. Vanrenen was in town, and he regrets he was unable to call before he left." "Before who left?" demanded Cynthia. "Your father, dear." "Left for where?" Mrs. Devar screwed her eyes at the pink slip. "That is all it says. Just 'left'?"
"Now, Simmonds," went on the pleasant, lazy voice, "you see how I have comforted Dale by taking his money; won't you tell me what is the real obstacle that blocks the way? Are you afraid to face this imperious young lady?" "No, my lord. No man can provide against an accident of this sort. But Miss Vanrenen will lose all confidence in me.
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