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Updated: June 17, 2025
"His lordship drives his car himself!" echoed Tom, and a curious smile parted his lips, showing an almost sinister gleam of white teeth between his full black moustache and beard, then, bringing his sombre glance to bear slowly down on Wrotham's insignificant form, he continued, "Are you his lordship?" Wrotham nodded with a careless condescension, and, lighting a cigar, began to smoke it.
I've made many a woman's hair curl, I can tell you! You'll be my 'Somersetshire beauty, won't you, Miss Grace?" "I think not!" she replied, with a cool glance. "My hair curls quite enough already. I never use tongs!" Brookfield burst into a laugh, and the laugh was echoed murmurously by the other men in the room. Wrotham flushed and bit his lip. "That's a one er for me," he said lazily.
No wonder we knocked it over!" The hostess of the inn looked up quickly. "I hope it was not hurt?" she said. "Oh dear no!" answered Lord Wrotham lightly. "It just fell back and turned a somersault in the grass, evidently enjoying itself. It had a narrow escape though!" Tom o' the Gleam stared fixedly at him. Once or twice he essayed to speak, but no sound came from his twitching lips.
"I'm going to take a photograph of this house to-morrow, and perhaps" here he smiled complacently "perhaps Miss Grace and Miss Elizabeth will consent to come into the picture?" "Ya-as ya-as! oh do!" drawled Wrotham. "Of course they will! You will, I'm sure, Miss Grace! This gentleman, Mr.
In half a dozen places it cut across lanes, and once across the great high road from Farningham to Wrotham. As they drew near this, Mr. Kirke, who was riding in front, checked them. "I will go first," he said, "and see if there is danger." In a minute he returned. "There is a man about a hundred yards up the road asleep on a bank; and there is a cart coming up from Wrotham: that is all I can see.
The Manor Lodge, too, stood well off the road to Wrotham, and not five strangers appeared there in the year. Fifty men might hunt the woods for a month and not find it; in fact, Mr.
"After the dissolution of the alien priories, in 1414, by the Parliament of Leicester, they remained in the Crown till Henry VI., who gave Wrotham Manor to Eton College; and if the Eton Fellows would search, they would perhaps find the Manor in their possession, that was held by the custom of Salt." Alderman Bursal, Father of young Bursal. Mr. Newington, Landlord of the Inn at Salt Hill.
Her husband had ridden over to Wrotham, and she expected him back for supper; nothing then could be finally settled till he came. In the meantime the Manor Lodge was probably the safest place in all the woods, Mrs. Kirke declared; the nearest house was half a mile away, and that was the Rectory; and the Rector himself was a personal friend and favourable to Catholics.
'But if I don't go to Wrotham this afternoon, she'll be here either to-night or the first thing to-morrow. I'm sure of it! 'By four or five o'clock, said Earwaker, 'you can have broken up the camp. You've often done it at shorter notice. Go to an hotel for the night. 'I must write to the poor woman. 'Do as you like about that.
Tom worn't known in their blessed 'Court circles, but, by the Lord! he'd got a grip o' the people's heart about here, an' the people don't forget their friends in a hurry! Who the devil cares for Lord Wrotham!" "Who indeed!" murmured the chorus. "An' who'll say a bad word for Tom o' the Gleam?" "Nobody!" "He wor a rare fine chap!" "We'll all miss him!" eagerly answered the chorus.
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