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Updated: June 2, 2025
"There are too many gray hairs here for your age, Frances," she said. "George, you should keep your mother from worry and work. Don't let her hair grow gray so soon." George bowed. "I hope I shall do my duty," he said, with dignity. "Come, mother." As they drove down Piccadilly Mrs. Waldeaux chattered eagerly to her son.
She scarcely spoke, yet her every motion, as she served him, seemed a caress. When he had finished he began to stammer out his thanks. "No," she said, rising decisively. "You are too weak to talk to me to-night, Mr. Waldeaux. The coupe is at the door. John will drive you home. You need sleep now."
"You go on the Street some day, and come back a millionaire." "That is a woman's idea of business. Instead, I will sit on a high stool and drudge all day, and on Saturday get my wages, and after three or four years I'll make a fight for ten dollars more a week, and thank God if I get it. 'A short cut to fortune!" Mrs. Waldeaux carefully averted her eyes from him.
Her dead mother shall not come between her and me." "She's like her, George!" said Mrs. Waldeaux, with white, trembling lips. "I ought to have seen it at first. Those luring, terrible eyes. It is Pauline Felix's heart that is in her. Rotten to the core rotten " "I don't care. I'll stand by her." But George's face, too, began to lose its color. He shook himself uncomfortably.
They have been so good to us. If Lucy had been my own child, she could not have been kinder to me." Mr. Waldeaux turned and raised his crepe-bound hat, looking at Lucy in her soft gray gown vaguely, as he might at a white gull dropped on the shore. "I suppose I never shall see her again," said his mother. "Clara tells me she is besieged by lovers. She is going to marry a German prince, probably."
She put great ideas into the hat that she altered for me," Lucy added, with an unsteady laugh. "I care nothing for them or their souls," said Miss Vance crossly. "It is his mother that I think of." "But really," said Lucy, "mademoiselle is quite raw material. No ideas no manners whatever. Mrs. Waldeaux may mould her into something good and fine." "She will not try.
But her little confidence with Lucy had relieved her. The child cared nothing for George, that was plain. Mademoiselle, watching Mrs. Waldeaux closely all day, was not deceived by her laugh. "The old lady, your mother," she said to George, "is what you men call 'game. She has blood and breeding. More than you, monsieur. That keeps her up.
What does she know of your Breton talk? I speak English and French I!" he bragged, and walking up to Mrs. Waldeaux, he flourished his ragged hat, smiling. "Is madame ill? She has walked far," he said kindly. The English words seemed to waken her. "It is always the town," looking around bewildered. "The people houses. I think I am not well. If I could find the woods "
Waldeaux was looking at Clara and her girls, who were watching her from the dock. They had come to Vannes when Lisa died, and had taken care of her and the baby until now. Frances had cried at leaving them, but George stood with his back to them moodily, looking down into the black water.
Waldeaux carried the boy up to bed, and Lucy and George were left alone. They talked long and earnestly. "She consulted me about her affairs," he said, after she was gone, his eyes shining. "I am afraid she does not understand business!" Mrs. Waldeaux replied anxiously. "Oh, like a woman! That is, not at all. Her whole property is in the hands of The Consolidated Good Faith Companies.
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