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One glance at the map, however, set his mind at rest. "I thought so," he said quietly. "Cyril wouldn't be there. It's beyond his beat. Lavington's the fourth station this way on the up-line from Chetwood. Cyril's stopping at Tilgate town, you know I heard from him on Saturday and the bit he's now working at's in Chetwood Forest.
But the place, for all its ingenuities of comfort, was oddly cold and unwelcoming. He couldn't have said why, and could only suppose that Mr. Lavington's intense personality intensely negative, but intense all the same must, in some occult way, have penetrated every corner of his dwelling.
When there was more than usual to be done, their tea would be brought to them where they sat, and there would be no intermission. So things went on at Miss Lavington's in those days. I wonder in how many establishments of the same description, things go on so now! How many to which that voice of humanity which "calls in the streets" has not yet penetrated!
Lavington's chair was not present, and no seat awaited him. When the young men entered, Mr. Grisben was speaking, and his host, who faced the door, sat looking down at his untouched soup- plate and turning the spoon about in his small dry hand. "It's pretty late to call them rumors they were devilish close to facts when we left town this morning," Mr.
The flowers themselves, their quality, selection and arrangement, attested on some one's part and on whose but John Lavington's? a solicitous and sensitive passion for that particular form of beauty. Well, it simply made the man, as he had appeared to Faxon, all the harder to understand!
It never entered into Miss Lavington's head that she had any other business with her young women, but to get all the work she possibly could out of their hands, and as well done, and as speedily done as possible. Oh! those dreadful days and nights of the season, which the poor Lucy Miles at that place went through.
"My dear boy!... Peters, another bottle...." He turned to his nephew. "After such a sin of omission I don't presume to propose the toast myself... but Frank knows.... Go ahead, Grisben!" The boy shone on his uncle. "No, no, Uncle Jack! Mr. Grisben won't mind. Nobody but you today!" The butler was replenishing the glasses. He filled Mr. Lavington's last, and Mr.
Lavington's chair was not present, and no seat awaited him. When the young men entered, Mr. Grisben was speaking, and his host, who faced the door, sat looking down at his untouched soup-plate and turning the spoon about in his small dry hand. "It's pretty late to call them rumours they were devilish close to facts when we left town this morning," Mr.
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