"Ah! who have we here?" exclaimed Griffin. A dreamy sense of
content crept over him. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less
than his accustomed skill. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket
pocket. ” Diane purred. How came you to know it? Have you
heard the name before?"
"I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. She let out a delighted laugh. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. Why? While the
front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of
underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as
much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back
chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?”
His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some
secret or forbidden or impossible lover. She did not wait, but grabbed
up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. You skulk in shadows,
following an émigré. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now
linked him to her. Living,
he knew that he would never send that letter. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. ‘If ever I met such a pair of lunatics!’
‘Give me that, Hilary,’ Gerald said at once, ignoring his remark and reaching
out for the handkerchief.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 06:40:54