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Updated: June 6, 2025
On the day succeeding Nap's return Dot went to tea at Baronmead. She was a very constant visitor there. Lucas always enjoyed her bright presence and welcomed her with warmth. But Dot was not feeling very bright that day. She looked preoccupied, almost worried. She found that Mrs.
You will find it cold when we begin to move. Are your feet quite warm? There is a foot-warmer here. Tuck her in well, Bertie. That's the way." "You will never get out again," laughed Bertie, as he shut the door upon her. "Now, where are we going? To Baronmead?" His merry eyes besought her for an instant; then, as she began to shake her head, "Can't you persuade her, Luke?" he said.
But this latter idea did not apparently greatly lure him, for he continued to plod upwards, even while considering it, to the tune of the clamouring bells. Arriving finally at the top of the hill and finding there a crowd of vehicles of all descriptions, he paused to breathe and to search for the Baronmead motors. He found them eventually, but there was no one in attendance.
You don't think me very unreasonable about Nap?" "Oh, damn Nap!" said Bertie, for the second time, with fervour. "Poor Nap!" said Dot gently. That evening, when Bertie was at Baronmead, she scribbled a single sentence on a sheet of paper, thrust it into an envelope and directed it to the Phoenix Club, New York.
I'm real pleased to meet you, child. I've watched you in church many a time when I ought to have been saying my prayers, and so has someone else I know." Dot's cheeks were scarlet as she came forward to Anne's couch. She was still telling herself with fierce emphasis that never, never again would she voluntarily venture herself within the walls of Baronmead.
Her stately head was bent over the paper, which never crackled or stirred in her hand. There began to be something terrible, something fateful, in her passivity. Old Dimsdale shivered, and took the liberty of breaking the silence. "Would your ladyship wish a message to be sent to Baronmead?" She stirred at that, moved sharply as one suddenly awakened.
She went in by the French windows that led into the drawing-room, and here, tempted by an impulse that had not moved her for long, she sat down at the piano and began very softly to play. She had not touched the keys since her last visit to Baronmead. She wondered, as idly she suffered her fingers to wander, how long it would be before she played again.
He never informed any one of his movements, nor did even Lucas know when he might be expected at Baronmead. But his absences were never of long duration, and Anne met him fairly frequently. She herself was more at leisure now than she had been for years, for Lucas had found an agent for her and the sole care of her husband's estate no longer lay upon her. She spent much of her time with Mrs.
His sympathy neither sought nor needed expression in words. Neither did he speak of himself. He only at parting held her hand very closely for several silent seconds. And Anne went away with a hushed feeling at her heart as if he had invoked a benediction. Back to her home she went, strangely quiet and at peace. She had thought that visit to Baronmead would have been painful to her.
It had certainly been a successful afternoon. Mrs. Errol smiled to herself as she drove back to Baronmead. Everything had gone well. Dear Anne had looked lovely, and she for one was thankful that she had discarded her widow's weeds. Had not her husband been virtually dead to her for nearly a year? Besides here Mrs.
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