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Updated: June 8, 2025
We've been retired here ourselves a matter of twelve months. A pretty spot." "Yes; lovely, isn't it?" "We wanted nature. The air suits us, though a bit er too irony, as you might say. But it's a long-lived place. We were quite a time lookin' round." Mrs. Wagge added in her thin voice: "Yes we'd thought of Wimbledon, you see, but Mr.
Wagge with a tall, crape-banded hat in his black-gloved hands, standing in the very centre of her drawing-room. He was staring into the garden, as if he had been vouchsafed a vision of that warm night when the moonlight shed its ghostly glamour on the sunflowers, and his daughter had danced out there.
Gyp gazed at them, not daring to look up at his eyes thus turning and turning from Christianity to shekels, from his honour to the world, from his anger to herself. And she said: "Please let me do what I ask, Mr. Wagge. I should be so unhappy if I mightn't do that little something." Mr. Wagge blew his nose. "It's a delicate matter," he said. "I don't know where my duty lays. I don't, reelly."
The dog on Gyp's feet stirred, snuffled, turned round, and fell heavily against her legs again. She said quietly: "I was hearing of Daisy only to-day. She's quite a star now, isn't she?" Mrs. Wagge sighed. Mr. Wagge looked away and answered: "It's a sore subject. There she is, making her forty and fifty pound a week, and run after in all the papers. She's a success no doubt about it.
"Yes; but now it'll all come back to you again, better than ever." Daphne Wing answered by a feeble sigh. There was silence. Gyp thought: 'She's falling asleep. With eyes and mouth closed like that, and all alabaster white, the face was perfect, purged of its little commonnesses. Strange freak that this white flower of a face could ever have been produced by Mr. and Mrs. Wagge!
Wagge passed her and put his hand on the latch of the front door. His little piggy eyes scanned her almost timidly. "Well," he said, "I'm very glad to have the privilege of your acquaintance; and, if I may say so, you 'ave you 'ave my 'earty sympathy. Good-day." The door once shut behind her, Gyp took a long breath and walked swiftly away.
But she said as softly as she could: "Mrs. Wagge? Please forgive me but is there any news? I am It was I who got Daphne down here." The woman before her was evidently being torn this way and that, but at last she answered, with a sniff: "It it was born this morning dead." Gyp gasped. To have gone through it all for that!
Wagge cleared his throat, and went on, in a hoarser voice: "I don't want to say anything harsh about a certain party in your presence, especially as I read he's indisposed, but really I hardly know how to bear the situation. I can't bring myself to think of money in relation to that matter; all the same, it's a serious loss to my daughter, very serious loss. I've got my family pride to think of.
Wagge found "a bit er too irony, as you might say," had upon Winton the opposite effect, he certainly relaxed that first duty of man, the concealment of his spirit, and disclosed his activities as he never had before how such and such a person had been set on his feet, so and so sent out to Canada, this man's wife helped over her confinement, that man's daughter started again after a slip.
He looked out into the garden. There was the baby at the end, and that fat woman. No Gyp! Never in when she was wanted. Wagge! He shivered; and, going back into his bedroom, took a brandy-bottle from a locked cupboard and drank some. It steadied him; he locked up the cupboard again, and dressed. Going out to the music-room, he stopped under the trees to make passes with his fingers at the baby.
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