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Updated: June 10, 2025
Well, there is no disgrace in that. One will probably 'live to fight another day. Do you mean to say that you will take no notice no notice of all that array of facts I laid before you this morning on the subject of Captain Addison?" "I shall be kind to you, and forget them. Now, do listen to Aunt Watton! It is your duty.
Not many people would like to be regarded as Lady Blessington's successor." "In any other respect than beauty," said Edward Watton, haughtily, with the same tension as before, "the comparison, of course, would be ridiculous."
He had been sitting silent beside her on the sofa for some little time, apparently toying with the evening papers, which Mrs. Watton had relinquished to him. Mrs. Watton looked up, followed the direction of his eyes towards a settee in a distant corner of the room, and showed a half-impatient amusement. "Letty? Oh! Letty's my niece the daughter of my brother, Walter Sewell, of Helbeck.
She had the last edition of an evening paper open before her, so that her small head and shoulders seemed buried in the sheet. And so eager was her attention to what she was reading that she had not heard their approach. "Letty!" said Mrs. Watton. Her niece turned with a violent start. "My dear Letty!" The aunt approached, quivering with majestic sympathy, both hands outstretched.
Watton, who was loftily determined to "launch" her niece, Letty was always well pleased with the look of her hall-table and the cards upon it when she returned home in her new brougham from her afternoon round. She left them there for George to see, and it delighted her particularly if Lady Tressady came in during the interval.
I got that out of Edward. But, of course, one knew that was going to happen as soon as one saw them together at Castle Luton. She throws her flies cleverly, that woman!" "All I can say is," observed Mrs. Watton, ponderously, "that in any decent state of society such a woman would be banned!" Harding rose, and stood by the open window caressing his moustache.
"Where have you been, Edward?" said Tressady; "I haven't seen you since the town-hall." "I have been at a rehearsal. There is a parish concert next week, and I conduct these functions." "The concerts are always bad," said Mrs. Watton, curtly. Edward Watton shrugged his shoulder. He had a charming timid air, contradicted now and then by a look of enthusiastic resolution in the eyes.
Meanwhile a couple of shooting-parties had been arranged, mainly for his entertainment. Still, was there no urgent business that required him in town? He sauntered in to breakfast a little before ten. Only Evelyn Watton and her mother were visible, most of the men having already gone off to a distant meet. "Now sit down and entertain us, Sir George," said Mrs.
As he rolled along, watching the scene, Tressady thought to himself, as he had often thought before, that the East End, in many of its aspects, is a very decentish sort of place, about which many people talk much nonsense. He made the remark, carelessly, to Watton.
Nevertheless, that first impression of her he had carried away from the hospital scene was being somehow blurred and broken up. She joined in the laugh against herself; then, with a little nod towards her assailant, she said to Edward Watton, who was sitting on her right hand. "You're not taken in, I know."
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