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Updated: June 7, 2025
Wynne caught a satirical glance between his cousin and Miss Morison, and more than ever he felt that the meeting was a farce in which he, vowed to a nobler life, should have had no part. His musings were cut short by the entrance of Mrs. Rangely with the medium. He recognized Mrs. Singleton at a glance, and was struck as he had been before by the appealing look of innocence.
Wynne watched it thoughtfully until it had disappeared; and Claflin's interest was so intense that he forgot the necessity of screening himself, the result being that when he turned again toward Mr. Wynne he found that young man gazing at him. Mr. Wynne even nodded in a friendly sort of way as he attached the second strip of tissue to the leg of another bird.
My aunt kept herself indoors and would none of the Galloways and Allens, who had come back in swarms, nor even the neutrals, like Mr. Penn, whom she much liked. The day after the town was occupied, Captain Wynne appeared early in the morning, as we were discussing a matter of business.
Ashe's pale face had on it the faintest possible flush, and his always grave manner had become really solemn; but otherwise he made no sign. Wynne had a certain sense of humor which helped him through the ordeal, and there was a faint gleam of a smile in his eye as he confronted the brilliant woman before him; but he was ill-pleased that his friend should be made uncomfortable.
To many of the domestic sagas, or histories of ancient Icelandic families, from the character of the events which it describes and also from the manner in which it describes them, the "History of the Gwedir Family," by Sir John Wynne, bears a striking resemblance. After giving the woman sixpence I left the fall, and proceeded on my way.
At the inn I waited a day, when a ketch appeared, and an officer, stepping ashore, came up from the beach to meet me. I saw, as he drew near, that it was Arthur Wynne. "Glad to see you," he cried, in a quite hearty way. "It is an unexpected pleasure. Andre was to have come, but he is ill. He desires his regards and particular compliments."
I'd sooner have cut my right hand off than have done it, but I knew Merriton was going to be married, and I wouldn't saddle him with my bills. Don't look at me like that, Nigel, old chap, you know I couldn't! Tony West has only enough for himself, and I didn't want to go to loan sharks. So the mater suggested Dacre Wynne. I went to him, in her name, and ate the dust.
Wynne, some thirty feet in the rear; the third Jerry Malone was half a block away, up Fifth Avenue, coming slowly toward them. Mr. Birnes adjusted his pace to that of Mr. Wynne, step for step, and then, seeming assured of his safety from any chance glance, ostentatiously mopped his face with a handkerchief, flirting it a little to the left as he replaced it in his pocket.
"Thank God! thank God!" "Martha, who gave him his name?" asked Mrs. Bennet. Aunt Martha paused for a little while. Then she said: "You never knew who my my husband was?" "Never." "I remember he never came to the house. Well, I gave my child almost his father's name. I called him Wynne; his father's name was Wayne." Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands in her lap.
Miss Liston started slightly; also she colored very slightly, and she answered, looking away from me across the lawn, "I haven't quite made up my mind yet, Mr. Wynne." With the suspicion which this conversation aroused fresh in my mind, it was curious to hear Pamela laugh, as she said to me on the afternoon of the same day, "Aren't Sir Gilbert and Audrey Liston funny? I tell you what, Mr.
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