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Updated: May 29, 2025
With the exception of Windebank, she had not been friendly with a rich person since she had been a child, so could not, at present, have any opinion of how much happiness the wealthy enjoyed; but she could not help remarking how much joy and contentment she had encountered in the person seemingly most unlikely to be thus blessed.
After he had told Windebank his bad news, and the latter had expressed his genuine concern, Devitt had said: "Do you remember Keeves Colonel Keeves?" "Of Melkbridge Court? Of course. Why?" "I heard something of his daughter the other day." "Little Mavis!" "She's big Mavis now," remarked Devitt. "Have you seen her?" asked Windebank eagerly. "Not yet, but I may very soon."
"When it's been time spent with you?" When the bill and the change were brought, Windebank would not look at either. "How can you be so extravagant?" she murmured. "When one's with you, it's a crime to think of anything else." "What a good thing I'm leaving you!" she laughed. He insisted on getting and helping her into her coat.
Also, thoughts of Windebank now and again flooded her mind. Then she remembered all he had done for her, at which gratitude welled from her soul. At such times she would be moved by a morbid consideration for his feelings; she longed to pay back the money he had spent on her illness, and felt that her mind would never be at ease on the matter till she had.
You, in your heart, don't wish to trouble to say good-bye, but you haven't the pluck to act up to your wishes. I hate you!" "But, Mavis " "Don't call me that. You haven't the courage of your convictions. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I wish I'd never seen you. Be honest and go away and leave me." "No!" cried Windebank, as he seized her arm. "That's right!
As if this were not enough to interfere with Mavis's visit, Montague Devitt had met young Sir Archibald Windebank, the bachelor owner of Haycock. Abbey, when going to discharge his duties as borough magistrate, the performance of which he believed might ease his mind of the pain occasioned by his son's illness.
"P.S. I have written by the same post to Windebank to give him your address." Mavis looked at her watch, to discover it was exactly half-past seven. She ran downstairs, half dressed as she was, to look at the time-table which Mr Medlicott presented to her on the first of every month.
"She promised to be an awfully pretty girl. Is she?" "I haven't seen her. But if she comes down you might care to call." "Thanks," replied Windebank. "When you see her, you might mention I asked after her." "I will." "Although I don't suppose she'll remember me after all these years." Devitt had left Windebank and gone about his business.
The fact of her having told him a lie seemed, in the eyes of her morbidly active conscience, to put her under an obligation to him, an indebtedness that she was in no mind to increase. She folded her hands on the napkin, and again looked about her. "Don't you want that stuff?" Windebank asked. "No, thank you." "Neither do I. Take it away!"
She had for so long associated Windebank with any sentimental leanings in which she had indulged, that she was convinced that her fidelity to his memory was sufficient safeguard against her becoming infatuated with Perigal. Thus she travelled along a road, blinding herself the while to the direction in which she was going.
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