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Updated: June 9, 2025
"They are calling us," she said, as though awakened from a dream. "May I take you down?" He offered his arm with deference, and she touching it lightly, they went down together. Lynette came to them laughing, a cup in either hand, her aides-de-camp following with plates that held the siege apology for bread and butter and familiar-looking cubes of something.... "Thank you, Miss Mildare.
"I tell you," said Christine Silber, the handsome Jewess, with a fierce flash of her black Oriental eyes, "foundling or charity girl, or whatever else you choose to call her, Lynette Mildare is the pride of the school." Silber's father was President of the Groenfontein Legislative Council. A hum of assent followed on her utterance, and an English girl got up upon a form.
"We have all heard of Captain Mildare of the Grey Hussars, my dear child," said Lord Castleclare, going to the door to make sure that those shrieks that had proceeded from the Viscount's sumptuous suite of apartments, situated at the top of the staircase rising at the end of the corridor leading from his father's library, were stilled at the maternal fountain.
What matters is your parole of honour that you will never by word, or deed, or sign disclose to Miss Mildare that Lord Beauvayse was not, when he engaged himself to marry her, in a position to fulfil his matrimonial proposals. Short of betraying your rival, you are at liberty to further your own views as may seem good to you.
"Miss Mildare, I was walking on one of the native paths that have been made in the bush there" he indicated the bank behind him "when I heard you cry out. I am here, at your service, to offer you any help or protection that is in my power to give." Lynette looked at him vaguely.
"Lynette Mildare, have you a heart inside you?" "Certainly; I can feel it beating, and it does its work very well." "Am I, then, nothing to you?" Lynette smiled, looking up at the piquant, charming face. "You are a great deal to me." "And I regard you as a bosom-friend.
But comparative peace brooded over the shattered hamlet of wrecked homes and ploughed-up, littered roads, and raw earthworks blistering in the pitiless sun. "Miss Mildare."
Her sisters and her stepmother, her father and her seven aunts, her relatives, innumerable as stars in the Milky Way, found infinite relish in the comfortable conviction that every one of them had said from the very outset that Bridget-Mary would regret the step she had taken in engaging herself to that Captain Mildare.
Finding that it was so, he ambled back to the centre of the worn Bokhara rug that had been under the prie-Dieu in the oratory of James II. at Dublin Castle, and resumed. "We have all heard of Captain Mildare.
She hurried to the door, and tore it open, frantically as though that ravening breath had been hot upon her neck, saw the dear black figure of the Mother sweeping towards her, and rushed into the arms that were held out, hiding from that burning, scorching, hideous memory in the bosom that dead Richard Mildare had turned from in his blindness.
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