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Updated: June 14, 2025
Vostrand, with a burst of frankness, "he thinks you don't like him." "He's wrong," said Westover. "But I might dislike him very much." "I see what you mean," said Mrs. Vostrand, "and I'm glad you've been so frank with me. I've been so interested in Mr. Durgin, so interested! Isn't he very young?" The question seemed a bit of indirection to Westover. But he answered directly enough.
Vostrand, but he did not feel strong in her defence; he was not sure that Durgin was quite wrong, absurd as he had been. He sat down and looked up at his visitor under his brows. "What are you here for, Jeff? Not to complain of Mrs. Vostrand?" Jeff gave a short, shamefaced laugh. "No, it's this you're such an old friend of Mrs.
Westover went on: "She used to be very good to me, and I think she used to be better to herself than she is now." He knew that Jeff must have told Cynthia of his affair with Genevieve Vostrand, and he kept himself from speaking of her by a resolution he thought creditable, as he mounted the stairs to the upper story in the silence to which Cynthia left his last remark.
Vostrand!" cried Westover, and he was now distinctly glad he had not tried to sneak out of doing something for her. "Your kindness won't be worse wasted on Durgin than it was on me, in the old days, when I supposed I had taken a second-cabin passage for the voyage of life.
Vostrand, as if she knew where Lovewell was, and instantly recognized the name of the ancient school. They had reached the dining room, and Jeff pushed the screen-door open with one hand, and followed the ladies in. He had the effect of welcoming them like invited guests; he placed the ladies himself at a window, where he said Mrs.
I don't know that she cared anything for him, though he was everything that I could have wished: handsome, brilliant, accomplished, good family; everything but rich, and that was what Mr. Vostrand objected to; or, rather, he objected to putting up, as he called it, the sum that Captain Grassi would have had to deposit with the government before he was allowed to marry.
One day, after the east wind had ceased to blow the breath of the ice- fields of Labrador against the New England coast, and the buds on the trees along the mall between the lawns of the avenue were venturing forth in a hardy experiment of the Boston May, Mrs. Vostrand asked Westover if she had told him that Mr. Vostrand was actually coming on to Boston.
Vostrand would be out of the draughts, and they could have a good view of Lion's Head. He leaned over between them, when they were seated, to get sight of the mountain, and, "There!" he said. "That cloud's gone at last."
Very nice people, and I'd like to make it pleasant for them get up something go somewhere and when you see their style you can judge what it had better be. Mrs. Vostrand and her daughter." "Thank you," said Westover. "I think I know them already at least one of them. I used to go to Mrs. Vostrand's house in Florence." "That so?
Jeff set his teeth and compressed his lips to bear as best he could, the give-away which his mother could not appreciate in its importance to him: "They're not the kind of people to take such a thing shabbily," said Westover. "They didn't happen to mention it, but Mrs. Vostrand must have got used to seeing young fellows in straits of all kinds during her life abroad.
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