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Updated: June 14, 2025
Westangle had to account for the young lady's presence there in your company. Then Miss Macroyd had to tell me; but I assure you, my dear fellow, the matter hasn't gone any further." "Oh, it's quite indifferent to me," Verrian retorted. "I'm nothing but a dispassionate witness of the situation."
These were the ideas which Verrian and the young man of the in-doors snow-storm urged upon her; his name was Bushwick, and he and Verrian found that they were very good-fellows after they had rather supposed the contrary. Mrs. Westangle received their ideas with the twittering reticence that deceived so many people when they supposed she knew what they were talking about.
Or had she, in sheer disgust for the turn the affair had been given by that brute Bushwick, thrown up the whole business? He looked round for Mrs. Westangle; she was not there; he conjectured he could only conjecture that she was absent conferring with Miss Shirley and trying to save the day.
Westangle know what she thinks? And if she doesn't, how should I?" "That's true. And are you going to give me away?" "I haven't done it yet. But isn't it best to be honest?" "It mightn't be a success." "The honesty?" "My literary celebrity." "There's that," Miss Macroyd rejoiced. "Well, so far I've merely said I was sure you were not Verrian the actor. I'll think the other part over."
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