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Updated: June 2, 2025
"I should like to know," he said, in his usual voice of studied inoffensiveness, "whether Mr. Quarrier is disposed to support the Female Suffrage movement?" "If he is," growled Mr. Vawdrey, with sudden emphasis, "he mustn't expect my vote and interest. We've seen enough in Polterham lately of the Female question." "Let it wait! Let it wait!" came from the draper.
"You prefer a rough young fellow, like Roderick Vawdrey, who talks slang, and smells of the stables." "I prefer anyone who is good and true," retorted Vixen. "Roderick is a man, and not to be named in the same breath with your fine gentleman." "I admit that the comparison would be vastly to his disadvantage," said the widow. "But it's time to dress for dinner."
There, Bates," jumping off the pony, "you may take Titmouse home, and I'll come presently and give him some apples, for he has been a dear, darling, precious treasure of a ponykins." She emphasised this commendation with a kiss on Titmouse's gray nose, and handed the bridle to Bates. "I'm going to walk home with Mr. Vawdrey," she said.
He expressed a firm confidence in Sutherland's enterprises; beyond a doubt, there was no end of money to be made by an energetic man; he should report most favourably to Mr. Vawdrey, whose co-operation would of course be invaluable. For his own part, whether he profited or not from these commercial schemes, he had not been mistaken in foreseeing material for journalism, even for a book.
"And to think that I shall be sitting in ermine robes in the House of Lords, while she is peeping through the nasty iron fretwork in the Ladies' Gallery to catch a glimpse of the top of her husband's head in the House of Commons." This splendid engagement of Lady Sophia's turned the tide for the faithful John Vawdrey.
Sutherland has written to me lately that he thinks of bestirring himself in the projects I've told you about; he has got the old man's consent to borrow money on the property. Now Vawdrey, naturally enough, would like Sutherland to join him in starting a company; the thoughts of such men run only on companies.
At present, even could she have entertained the thought, it seemed doubtful whether the Vawdrey household knew more of Tarrant's position and purposes than she herself; for, only a month ago, Jessica Morgan had called upon the girls and had ventured a question about their cousin, whereupon they answered that he was in America, but that he had not written for a long time. To Mrs.
Then he turned to the two men who were standing close by, watching him anxiously. "You must get some kind of litter to carry him home," he whispered. And then with gentle firmness, with strong irresistible hands, he separated the living from the dead, lifted Violet from the ground and led her towards her horse. "You must let Mr. Vawdrey take you home, my dear young lady," he said.
Vawdrey insists upon!" "I won't quarrel about names," returned Vawdrey, stolidly, "What I meant to say was that we must have a man of clean life, a moral man." "And do you imply," cried Chown, "that such men are hard to find among Radicals?" "I rather think they're hard to find anywhere nowadays." Mr.
Lady Mabel was not so much a Philistine as to suppose that writing good poetry could be a disgrace to a duke's daughter; but she felt that the house of Ashbourne would be seriously compromised were the critics to find her guilty of writing doggerel; and critics are apt to deal harshly with the titled muse. She remembered Brougham's savage onslaught upon the boy Byron. Mr. Vawdrey was in town.
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