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Updated: June 26, 2025
On leaving the school Geoffrey went to the tranter's. Old William opened the door. "Is your grandson Dick in 'ithin, William?" "No, not just now, Mr. Day. Though he've been at home a good deal lately." "O, how's that?" "What wi' one thing, and what wi' t'other, he's all in a mope, as might be said. Don't seem the feller he used to.
She made him comfortable; she surrounded him with the brightest people she could find; he was not allowed to mope indoors, and Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly American wife attended all the important social functions of the County, and many in London, and at the houses of their friends. And now a great joy was to come to Lady Fernborough.
Capper kept her hand in his, his green eyes running over her with elusive intentness. "Wonder what you'll do," he said abruptly. She met his look quite simply. "For the present," she said, "I must be with Mrs. Errol. Later on next month she will no doubt go to the Dower House, and I shall go back to the Manor." "Don't mope!" he said. She smiled again with a short sigh.
I was making up the party just now with mother and his sister Marie. Father brought Marie home with him. And we have put you down for one. But, Linda, what ails you? Does anything ail you?" Fanny might well ask, for the tears were running down Linda's face. "It is nothing particular." "Nay, but it is something particular something very particular. Linda, you mope too much."
Katie, do you think this friend of yours would invite me? I don't care to mope here when you are out enjoying yourself." "I am sure she would be very pleased to see you. I will write and ask her for an invitation as soon as I go home." Katherine rose as she spoke. "Do, like a good girl; and I will go and interview this dressmaker of yours. Till to-morrow, then."
But she seemed to pick up her strength again very quickly, and was soon hard at work canvassing among the electors' wives. "Don't overdo it," Denzil cautioned her. "Remember, if you are ill, I shall mope by your bedside." "I can't stop now that I have begun," was her reply. "If I try to sit idle, I shall be ill."
With a gesture that appeared to sweep her last remaining illusion behind her, she started resolutely up the drive to the house. After all, whatever came, she would not let them think that she was either afraid of life or disappointed in love. She would not mope, and she would not show the white feather.
She struggled fiercely against her depression, and vowed that melancholy should not benumb her spirits and her power. "He ought to have been here by this time," said she to herself. "Well, I will not mope for him. I must do something. Triplet," said she. "Madam." "Nothing." "No, madam." She sat gently down again, and leaned her head on her hand, and thought.
July Tenth. This sort of life is decidedly dull. The program of every day is the same. I go to the sandshore with Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby in the morning, read to Aunt in the afternoons, and mope around by my disconsolate self in the evenings. Mrs. Blake has lent me, for shore use, a very fine spyglass which she owns. She says her "man" brought it home from "furrin' parts" before he died.
Murray the other day hoping that I was getting on with my studies and that neither she nor Madame Martelli permitted me to mope and dream my time away in the profitless, silly way that had of late become habitual to me, and which was admirably adapted, if the habit were encouraged, to weaken my brain permanently." Margaret coloured faintly as Eleanor quoted that passage from Mr.
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