United States or Nicaragua ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Henry Wimbush added. Anne and Gombauld were still dancing together. It was after ten o'clock. The dancers had already dispersed and the last lights were being put out. To-morrow the tents would be struck, the dismantled merry-go-round would be packed into waggons and carted away. An expanse of worn grass, a shabby brown patch in the wide green of the park, would be all that remained.
The perpendicular lines of the three towers soared up, uninterrupted, enhancing the impression of height until it became overwhelming. They paused at the edge of the pool to look back. "The man who built this house knew his business," said Denis. "He was an architect." "Was he?" said Henry Wimbush reflectively. "I doubt it.
Nothing. What do I know of the people I see round about me? Nothing. What they think of me or of anything else in the world, what they will do in five minutes' time, are things I can't guess at. For all I know, you may suddenly jump up and try to murder me in a moment's time." "Come, come," said Denis. "True," Mr. Wimbush continued, "the little I know about your past is certainly reassuring.
Wimbush came up to see him, with the inevitable result that when I returned I found him under arms and flushed and feverish, though decorated with the rare flower she had brought him for his button-hole. He came down to dinner, but Lady Augusta Minch was very shy of him. To-day he's in great pain, and the advent of ces dames I mean of Guy Walsingham and Dora Forbes doesn't at all console me.
Wimbush, I was worsted in my encounters, for wasn't the state of his health the very reason for his coming to her at Prestidge? Wasn't it precisely at Prestidge that he was to be coddled, and wasn't the dear Princess coming to help her to coddle him?
"If all these people were dead," Henry Wimbush went on, "this festivity would be extremely agreeable. Nothing would be pleasanter than to read in a well-written book of an open-air ball that took place a century ago. How charming! one would say; how pretty and how amusing! But when the ball takes place to-day, when one finds oneself involved in it, then one sees the thing in its true light.
Scogan stood on tiptoe and peered up. "Seven volumes of the 'Tales of Knockespotch'. The 'Tales of Knockespotch'," he repeated. "Ah, my dear Henry," he said, turning round, "these are your best books. I would willingly give all the rest of your library for them." The happy possessor of a multitude of first editions, Mr. Wimbush could afford to smile indulgently. "Is it possible," Mr.
One is always alone in suffering; the fact is depressing when one happens to be the sufferer, but it makes pleasure possible for the rest of the world." There was a pause. Henry Wimbush pushed back his chair. "I think perhaps we ought to go and join the ladies," he said. "So do I," said Ivor, jumping up with alacrity. He turned to Mr. Scogan. "Fortunately," he said, "we can share our pleasures.
Denis declined the invitation; he passed it on to Mr Scogan. "Well?" he said. Mr. Scogan did not respond; he only repeated the question, "Well?" It was left for Henry Wimbush to make a pronouncement. "A very agreeable adjunct to the week-end," he said. His tone was obituary.
'I'll tell everyone, unless... "'It's blackmail. "'I don't care, said George. 'I'll give you twenty-four hours to decide. "Lady Lapith was disappointed, of course; she had hoped for better things for Timpany and a coronet. But George, after all, wasn't so bad. They were married at the New Year. "My poor grandfather!" Mr. Wimbush added, as he closed his book and put away his pince-nez.
Word Of The Day