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Updated: June 24, 2025
The procession was formed immediately, and he found himself in his place with his partner on his arm. Dinner was torture. What he said to his neighbours he knew not. He dared not look up the table where Lady Chudley sat in full view. Every moment he expected ridiculous apprehension of an accusing conscience Colonel Winwood to come and tap him on the shoulder and bid him begone.
They arrived at the spot where the marquees were erected, and at once began the traditional routine of the school treat-games for the girls, manlier sports for the boys. Lord Chudley, patron of the living of St. Luke's, Bludston, and Lord Bountiful of the feast, had provided swing-boats and a merry-go-round which discoursed infernal music to enraptured ears.
But nothing happened. Afterwards, in the drawing-room, Fate drove him into a corner near Lady Chudley, whose eyes he met clear upon him. He turned away hurriedly and plunged into conversation with a young soldier standing by. Presently he heard Miss Winwood's voice. "Mr. Savelli, I want to introduce you to Lady Chudley." The fear gripped him harder and colder.
But it's not all," said he. "What else is there?" "You were one of the two or three," he said earnestly, thinking of the Bludston factory, "who opened new horizons for me." "I'm a proud woman," said Lady Chudley. The next day, Sunday, old Lord Chudley dragged him into his own private den.
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