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Updated: June 15, 2025
'I don't know that I'm so stuck on Clarence myself, said Lady Wetherby, weakly. 'My darling! 'Wait a minute. I've not said I would get rid of him. 'But you will? Lady Wetherby's hesitation lasted but a moment. 'All right, Algie. I'll send him to the Zoo to-morrow. 'My precious pet! A hand, reaching under the table, enveloped Claire's in a loving clasp.
I was expecting a long-distance call, Lady Wetherby, and left word I would be here. Will you excuse me? Lady Wetherby watched him as he bustled across the room. 'What do you think of him, Claire? 'Mr Pickering? I think he's very nice. 'He admires you frantically. I hoped he would. That's why I wanted you to come over on the same ship with him. 'Polly! I had no notion you were such a schemer.
I suppose Lady Wetherby invited them, 'But why? 'She wants the advertisement, of course. I know it doesn't sound sensational a lost monkey; but when it's a celebrity's lost monkey it makes a difference. Suppose King George had lost a monkey; wouldn't your London newspapers give it a good deal of space?
There was something in Wrench's manner that perplexed Lady Wetherby, something almost human, as if Wrench were on the point of coming alive. She did not guess it, but the explanation was that Bill, quite unwittingly, had impressed Wrench. There was that about Bill that reminded the butler of London and dignified receptions at the house of the Dowager Duchess of Waveney.
'My sweetheart, when I saw you doing that Dream of What's-the-girl's-bally-name dance just now, it was all I could do to keep from rushing out on to the floor and hugging you. 'Algie! 'Polly! 'Do you mind letting go of my hand, please, Lord Wetherby? said Claire, on whom these saccharine exchanges were beginning to have a cloying effect.
It was a fast inshoot, and hit the wall just above her head. ''At-a-boy! said the odd-job man, reverently. Lady Wetherby turned on him with some violence. His detached attitude was the most irritating of the many irritating aspects of the situation. She paid this man a weekly wage to do odd jobs. The capture of Eustace was essentially an odd job.
"But I'm not doing any worrying now; and I'm going to hurry and write Miss Wetherby at once so I can give it to Jimmy Bean to mail when he comes out this afternoon." Mrs. Chilton stirred restlessly. "Pollyanna, I do wish you'd call that young man by his proper name. That 'Bean' gives me the shivers. His name is 'Pendleton' now, as I understand it."
Della Wetherby tripped up the somewhat imposing steps of her sister's Commonwealth Avenue home and pressed an energetic finger against the electric-bell button. From the tip of her wing-trimmed hat to the toe of her low-heeled shoe she radiated health, capability, and alert decision. Even her voice, as she greeted the maid that opened the door, vibrated with the joy of living.
A glance had told her that it was from her friend Polly, Countess of Wetherby: that Polly Davis of whom she had spoken to Lord Dawlish. Polly Davis, now married for better or for worse to that curious invertebrate person, Algie Wetherby, was the only real friend Claire had made on the stage.
The shouts were less shrill and the yells less prolonged when Bobby was near the house. No toads nor cats graced the parlor floor, and no bugs nor snakes tortured Miss Wetherby's nerves when Bobby's bed was made each day. The kitchen woodbox threatened to overflow so high were its contents piled and Miss Wetherby was put to her wits' end to satisfy Bobby's urgent clamorings for errands to run.
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