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Updated: June 1, 2025
There have been many Khedives, and many Mikados, but there can never be another Bernard Maddison." A disturbed shade seemed to fall upon the baronet's face. She followed his eyes, riveted upon the door. The hum of conversation had suddenly ceased, and every one was looking in the same direction.
"Aha!" smiled the Baron; "my showman again, eh?" His expression sobered, and he added as a final contribution to the debate "But I may tell you, Bonker, I do not eggspect to like Miss Maddison. Ah, my instinct he is vonderful! It vas my instinct vich said. 'Chose Miss Gallosh for Tollyvoddle!"
What was in truth a monologue seemed to be a brilliantly sustained conversation, in which Maddison himself was at once the promoter and the background. On his part there was not a single faulty phrase or unmusical expression. Every idea he sprang upon them was clothed in picturesque garb, and artistically conceived.
There was a light in the library, and getting no response to his knocking, Stevens entered. He found his master sitting bolt upright in a chair, clutching the arms with rigid fingers and staring straight before him with a look of such frightful horror on his face, that Stevens positively ran from the room and out of the house. Mr. Maddison was stone dead.
He knew that Bernard Maddison was one of her favorite authors, and he put her defence of him down to that fact. He was not a particularly warm advocate on either side, and suddenly remembering his unopened letters, he abandoned the discussion. Helen, whose calm happiness had been altogether disturbed, rose in a few minutes with the intention of making her escape.
"And between ourselves, as nature's gentleman to nature's gentleman, you may assure Miss Maddison that there is not the remotest likelihood of this scheming Miss Gallosh ever becoming my friend's bride!" The two Dariuses were sensibly affected by this assurance. "As nature's gentleman to nature's gentleman!" repeated the elder with unction, wringing his hand.
Maddison hastily put the paper back in his pocket, and with a glance checked his son's gesture of protest. "Guess we'd better pass on to the next thing, Ri. I told you it wasn't any darned use just asking.
"You might have said next veek." "By next week Miss Maddison may be snapped up by some one else." "Zen vould Tollyvoddle be more lucky! I have nearly got for him ze most charming girl, mit as moch money as he vants. Ach, you do interfere! You should gonsider ze happiness of Tollyvoddle." "That is the only consideration that affects yourself, Baron?" "Of course! I cannot marry more zan vonce."
Perhaps Valentine had never felt better pleased in his life than he did when he went down the narrow, dark stairs, after his interview with Becky Maddison.
"Athene and Apollo take the floor!" A gray-haired journalist with a small, bewrinkled face, buried in whiskers, and beard, laid a hand on the General's arm as he spoke. The General smiled vaguely. "Do you know Mrs. and Miss Maddison?" "Rather!" said the little man. "Miss Elsie's a wonder!
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