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Updated: May 2, 2025
Let me see, what are Mrs. Westmacott's main ideas? You have listened to her more than I. Women should attend less to household duties. That is one, is it not?" "Yes, if they feel they have capabilities for higher things.
A brand-new, enfranchised, emancipated dress, dear. Don't you see my plan? We shall act up to all Mrs. Westmacott's views in every respect, and improve them when we can. Then papa will know what it is to live with a woman who claims all her rights. Oh, Clara, it will be splendid." Her milder sister sat speechless before so daring a scheme. "But it would be wrong, Ida!" she cried at last.
Trigger dined with them, and as soon as ever their dinner was swallowed they were out again at their work, Sir Thomas being dragged from door to door, while Griffenbottom asked for the votes. And this was to last yet for ten days more! Mr. Trigger had hinted that Ontario Moggs would be a thorn in the flesh of Mr. Westmacott's supporters at Percycross, and he had been right.
Blake listened with unconcealed impatience to the farrago of legal phrases, and snorted contemptuously when the reading came to an end. Albemarle looked at him darkly. "I do thank God," said he, "that through Mr. Westmacott's folly has this hideous plot, this black and damnable treason, been brought to light in time to enable us to stamp out this fire ere it is well kindled.
Fitzroy Fiddledum, beginning with "Art thou an angel from," etc.: a paragraph that pleased me more, on "Lady Castleton's Infant School at Raby Park;" then again, "Lady Castleton, the new patroness at Almack's;" a criticism, more rapturous than ever gladdened living poet, on Lady Castleton's superb diamond stomacher, just reset by Storr & Mortimer; Westmacott's bust of Lady Castleton; Landseer's picture of Lady Castleton and her children in the costume of the olden time.
Ida sat listening to the stumbling words and awkward phrases which were whispered from the back of her, but there was something in Charles Westmacott's clumsiness of speech which was more moving than the words of the most eloquent of pleaders. He paused, he stammered, he caught his breath between the words, and he blurted out in little blunt phrases all the hopes of his heart.
Dominating the others in the Babel rose the voice of Sir Rowland Blake impecunious Blake; Blake lately of the Guards, who had sold his commission as the only thing remaining him upon which he could raise money; Blake, that other suitor for Miss Westmacott's hand, the suitor favoured by her brother. "You shall not do it, Mr. Wilding," he shouted, his face crimson. "No, by God!
In the meantime, however, I have had to issue several cheques; so I had better transfer part of our private account to meet them." "Quite so, my boy. All that's mine is yours. But who do you think this Pearson is? He is Mrs. Westmacott's brother." "Really. What a singular thing! Well, I can see a likeness now that you mention it. They have both the same hard type of face."
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