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Updated: May 11, 2025
And not one of the three had escaped the temperamental heritage which Angèle de Varincourt had grafted on to a parent stem of dare-devil, reckless English growth.
But you're that Varincourt woman's own great-grand-daughter. Not that ye can help it, and I'm no blamin' ye for it. But 'tis wild blood!" Nan rose, laughing, and kissed her aunt. "After such a snub as that, I think I'd better take myself off. It's really time I started, as I'm walking." "Let me run you back in the car," suggested Sandy eagerly. "No, thanks.
"You don't seem to understand the meaning of the word faithfulness. Perhaps you can't help it you're half a Varincourt! . . . Don't you realise what you've done? You've torn down our love and soiled it made it nothing! I believed in you as I believed in God. . . . And then you run away with Maryon Rooke! One man or another apparently it's all the same to you."
The ineffaceable quality of race about her pleased his fastidious taste; the French blood in her called to his; nor could he escape the heritage of charm bequeathed her by the fair and frail Angèle de Varincourt. Above all, he understood her.
He spoke rather wearily, but contrived a smile as Nan entered, carrying a cup of coffee in her hand. "My compliments, Nan. Your coffee equals that of any Frenchwoman." "A reversion to type. Don't forget that Angèle de Varincourt is always at the back of me." St.
But remember, my wife was a Davenant, nearer than Nan by one generation to Angèle de Varincourt. And she was never happy! Though I loved her, I couldn't make her happy." "I should have thought you would have made her happy if any man could," said Penelope gently. "My dear, it's given to very few men to make a woman of temperament happy.
"There's bad blood in the Davenants, and Nan will probably create a scandal for us one day. I understand she strongly resembles her notorious great-grandmother, Angèle de Varincourt." "My wife will lead a very different kind of life from Angèle de Varincourt," remarked Roger. "I'll see to that." "It's a pity you didn't look nearer home for a wife, Roger," she observed.
There was a note of sternness in the old man's voice the sternness of a man who has a high creed of honour and who has always lived up to it, no matter what it cost. "Remember, Nan, no Davenant was ever a coward in the face of difficulties. They always pulled through somehow." "Or ran away like Angèle de Varincourt." "She only ran from one difficulty into the arms of a hundred others.
The charm of the frail and fair Angèle de Varincourt baffling, elusive, but irresistible was hers, and the soul of the artist, with its restless imagination, its craving for the beautiful, its sensitive response to all emotion this, too, was her inheritance. To Penelope, Nan's ultimate unfolding was a matter of absorbing interest.
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