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Updated: June 8, 2025
'Call me Daphne, call me Chloris, Call me Lalage or Doris, Only, only call me thine, which is exactly what we are not ready to do, I thought, in a poetic parenthesis. Benella looks frail and yet hardy.
"You did, just as much as me," said Lalage, "and it was to you he said it, so he evidently meant you. Not that either of us did cheek him really." "Why didn't you ask your father?" I said. "He's a Canon and he'd be almost sure to know." "I didn't like to speak to him about it until I knew what it was.
Good heavens, Canon, how can you suppose for an instant that anybody could, be responsible for Lalage?" "I didn't suppose it. I was only quoting the Archdeacon." "I wish to goodness the Archdeacon would mind his own business!" "That's what he's doing," said the Canon. "If he wasn't he'd be here now. He wanted to come. If the poor old bishop had held out another week he would have come."
Of the two reasons you gave me this morning for coming here " "I haven't told you any reason yet," said Lalage. "Excuse me, but when we first met this morning you said distinctly that you had come to see me. I hardly flattered myself that could really be true." "It was," said Lalage. "Quite true."
If you are really interested in corpses we might go there." "I hate Englishmen," said Lalage. "All Englishmen." "That's why I suggested their cemetery. It will be immensely gratifying to you to realize what a lot of them have died. The place is nearly full and there are lots of yew trees." Lalage did me the honour of laughing. Hilda, after a minute's consideration, also laughed.
He took it, and leveled it at Mademoiselle Lalage, who was singing some trivial couplets much better than they deserved. Catching sight of him presently, she greeted him with a flash of her dark eye that made him writhe as though his heart had received a fillip from a ponderable missile. She did not spare these roguish glances.
Yet, forgetting that Lalage had known of his failing, and had tried to help him fight his demon, he told himself that Vera's was the right view for a girl of her position. She was too good and pure to come into contact with the ugly things of life. Already, he had made up his mind to ask her to marry him, later on, when she came back from a promised visit of indefinite duration.
He took her hand. "Lalage, dearest, there's no question of that now, there can be no question of it when we're married. You say no one has taken care of me. Won't you do it, sweetheart, and save me from myself?" She looked at him with shining eyes. "You haven't said yet why you want to marry me, Jimmy." Once more he took her in his arms unresisting.
She was sick the whole way out, so we just put her in the top berth of our cabin and left her there." "Is she there still?" Hilda giggled. Lalage looked slightly annoyed. "Of course not," she said. "We aren't cruel. We hauled her out this morning and dressed her. It was rather a job but we did it.
"It's addressed here. So they know," she whispered. "Yes, they know," he repeated dully. They sat for a long time in silence, then he got up, evidently intending to go out. Lalage stood up, too. "Jimmy, you will leave me," she said. He turned round quickly and took her in his arms. "Never, never, sweetheart. After all you've done for me! You ought to know me better."
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