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Updated: May 13, 2025
'But then we lose our Tragedy, said Whitmonby. 'Our Comedy too, added Diana. 'We must consent to be Busbied for the sake of the instructive recreations. 'A curious idea, though, said Sullivan Smith, 'that some of the grand instructive figures were in their day colossal bores!
Whitmonby, accepting proposals which suited him, quitted the house, after an hour of political talk, no longer inclined to hint at the 'habitual serenader, but very ready to fall foul of those who did, as he proved when the numbers buzzed openly. Times were masculine; the excitement on the eve of so great a crisis, and Diana's comprehension of it and fine heading cry, put that weak matter aside.
The vague letters were excellently well composed: she was going abroad, and knew not when she would return; bade her friends think the best they could of her in the meantime. Whitmonby was favoured with an anecdote, to be read as an apologue by the light of subsequent events. But the letter to Emma tasked Diana.
Old and young were alike to her if she saw an end to be gained by keeping them hooked. Tonans too, and Whitmonby. Newspaper editors were especially serviceable. Perhaps 'a young Minister of State' held the foremost rank in that respect: if completely duped and squeezeable, he produced more substantial stuff.
"Thrice blessed and beloved!" he called to her above, in reference to the noise, "it was merely a diversion of the accompaniment." Now there was loyal service to a sovereign! 'You are certainly an angel! exclaimed Whitmonby. 'I swallow the story, and leave it to digestion to discover the appositeness.
Tonans dining here; he wished to meet you; and you must have a private meeting with Mr. Whitmonby: he will be useful; others as well. You are wrong in affecting contempt of the Press. It perches you on a rock; but the swimmer in politics knows what draws the tides. Your own people, your set, your class, are a drag to you, like inherited superstitions to the wakening brain. The greater the glory!
'Women are a blank to them, I believe, said Whitmonby, treacherously bowing; and Westlake said: 'Traces of a singular scrawl have been observed when they were held in close proximity to the fire.
Whitmonby nodded to the superior relish imparted by the vigour of masculine veracity in narration. 'A story for its native sauce piquante, he said. 'Nothing without it! They had each a dissolving grain of contempt for women compelled by their delicacy to spoil that kind of story which demands the piquant accompaniment to flavour it racily and make it passable.
Once with the title stamped on his memory, the zealous Irishman might be trusted to become an ambulant advertizer. Others, personal friends, adherents, courtiers of Redworth's, were active. Lady Pennon and Henry Wilmers, in the upper circle; Whitmonby and Westlake, in the literary; spread the fever for this new book.
'But I for one discern a possible relationship and a likeness. 'I think it exists behind a curtain, Dacier replied. 'Before the era of the Nursery. Liberty to grow; independence is the key of the secret. 'And what comes after the independence? he inquired. Whitmonby, musing that some distraction of an earnest incentive spoilt Mrs.
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