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Updated: June 20, 2025
Sandys and his Boatswain met at the Cuttle Well neither could tell where Grizel was. "She had no business to munt without my leave," Tommy said sulkily. "No, she hadna. Is she the Lady Griselda yet?" "Not her, she's the Commander's wife." Ben shook his head, for this, he felt, was the one thing Tommy could not do.
The climax was too much for Mrs. Munt. She burst into tears. "Aunt Juley dear, don't. Don't let them know I've been so silly. It wasn't anything. Do bear up for my sake." "Paul," cried Charles Wilcox, pulling his gloves off. "Don't let them know. They are never to know." "Oh, my darling Helen " "Paul! Paul!" A very young man came out of the house. "Paul, is there any truth in this?"
Munt, not committing herself to nourishment until she had studied Helen's lover a little more. He seemed a gentleman, but had so rattled her round that her powers of observation were numbed. She glanced at him stealthily. To a feminine eye there was nothing amiss in the sharp depressions at the corners of his mouth, nor in the rather box-like construction of his forehead.
The climax was too much for Mrs. Munt. She burst into tears. "Aunt Juley dear, don't. Don't let them know I've been so silly. It wasn't anything. Do bear up for my sake." "Paul," cried Charles Wilcox, pulling his gloves off. "Don't let them know. They are never to know." "Oh, my darling Helen " "Paul! Paul!" A very young man came out of the house. "Paul, is there any truth in this?"
I don't see people, and when I do I don't know 'em. My head's in a cloud." He let it hang heavily; then he lifted it, and said: "He's a nice, comfortable fellow, Munt is. Why didn't he stop and talk a bit?" "Well, Munt's modest, you know; and I suppose he thought he might be the third that makes company a crowd. Besides, nobody stops and talks a bit at these things.
It is cheap, even if you hear it in the Queen's Hall, dreariest music-room in London, though not as dreary as the Free Trade Hall, Manchester; and even if you sit on the extreme left of that hall, so that the brass bumps at you before the rest of the orchestra arrives, it is still cheap. "Who is Margaret talking to?" said Mrs. Munt, at the conclusion of the first movement.
And her eyes began to shine. "Of course I regard you Schlegels as English," said Mrs. Munt hastily "English to the backbone." Margaret leaned forward and stroked her hand. "And that reminds me Helen's letter." "Oh yes, Aunt Juley, I am thinking all right about Helen's letter. I know I must go down and see her. I am thinking about her all right. I am meaning to go down."
If she herself should ever fall in love with a man, she, like Helen, would proclaim it from the housetops, but as she loved only a sister she used the voiceless language of sympathy. "I consider you odd girls," continued Mrs. Munt, "and very wonderful girls, and in many ways far older than your years. But you won't be offended? frankly, I feel you are not up to this business.
Munt said Mister," and then to return to her pretty blue eyes, and to centre there in that pseudo-respectful attention under the arch of her neat brows and her soberly crinkled grey-threaded brown hair and her very appropriate bonnet. A bonnet, she said, was much more than half the battle after forty, and it was now quite after forty with Mrs. Pasmer; but she was very well dressed otherwise. Mr.
His gay speech meant everything or nothing. She could parry it with a jest, and then it would mean nothing. She let her head droop over her work, and made no answer. "I wish you could have seen those fellows on the boat," said Mavering. "Hello, Mavering!" called the voice of John Munt, from another part of the woods. "Alice! Miss Pasmer!" came that of Miss Anderson.
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