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Updated: June 16, 2025
This was the evening during which Roger Stapylton had favorably received his declaration; and Colonel Musgrave was remembering the time that he and Anne had last spoken with a semblance of intimacy that caustic time when Anne Charteris had interrupted him in high words with her husband, and circumstances had afforded to Rudolph Musgrave no choice save to confess, to this too-perfect woman, of all created beings, his "true relations" with Clarice Pendomer.
"Ah, don't make fun of Rudolph!" she cried, quickly. "Rudolph can't help it if he is conscientious and in consequence rather depressing to live with. And for all that he so often plays the jackass-fool about women, like Grandma Pendomer, he is a man, Jack a well-meaning, clean and dunderheaded man!
And he was conscious, with vexation, that he had undeniably flushed. "I mean, then, I am a woman, and I understand. Everything is as near what it should be as is possible while Patricia is seeing so much of we will call it the artistic temperament." Mrs. Pendomer shrugged. "But if I went on in that line you would believe I was jealous.
"Oh, I was only quoting Patricia," the colonel largely said, "and er Jack," he continued. "By the way, Jack, Clarice Pendomer will be at Matocton " "I rejoice in her good luck," said Charteris, equably. " and well! I was wondering ?" "I can assure you that there will be no trouble. That skeleton is safely locked in its closet, and the key to that closet is missing more thanks to you.
This much, at least, all Lichfield knew when George Pendomer evincing unsuspected funds of generosity permitted his wife to secure a divorce on the euphemistic grounds of "desertion." John Charteris, acting as Rudolph Musgrave's friend, had patched up this arrangement; and the colonel and Mrs. Pendomer, so rumor ran, were to be married very quietly after a decent interval.
Pendomer, clearing her throat once more, "appears to consist of insanity and heretical sentiments, in about equal proportions, all written at the top of a boy's breaking voice. It isn't Colonel Musgrave's voice quite is it?" During the reading, Patricia, leaning on one elbow, had regarded her companion with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "Now, you see!" she cried indignantly; "he loved her!
"Olaf is such a silly-sounding nickname for two old married people, you know," Patricia estimated. The colonel negligently said that he supposed it did sound odd. "Only I don't think Clarice Pendomer would care about coming," he resumed, for the two were discussing an uncompleted list of the people Patricia was to invite to their first house-party. "And for heaven's sake, why not?
A woman never realizes that of her lover, somehow. But to know that your husband, the father of your child, has lived for other women a life in which you had no part, and never can have part! she realizes that, at one time or another, and and it sickens her." Mrs. Pendomer smiled as she echoed his phrase, but her eyes were not mirthful.
So that few had time, now, to talk of Rudolph Musgrave and Clarice Pendomer; for it was not in Lichfieldian human nature to discuss a mere domestic imbroglio when here, also in the Musgrave family, was a picturesque and gory assassination to lay tongue to. So Colonel Musgrave was duly reëlected that spring to the librarianship of the Lichfield Historical Association, and the name of Mrs.
Pendomer reflected, "I dare say it is best, upon the whole, you shouldn't. And now you must excuse me, for I am leaving for the Ullwethers' to-day, and I shan't ever be invited to Matocton again, and I must tell my maid to pack up. She is a little fool and it will break her heart to be leaving Pilkins. All human beings are tediously alike.
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