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Tales of two people

Chapter 62: FOOTNOTES:
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About This Book

A series of short narratives set mainly among late Victorian and Edwardian social circles, each sketching a particular incident of love, misunderstanding, or social friction. Gentle comedy and irony pit impulsive aristocrats, resolute women, and cautious professionals against legal quirks, romantic dilemmas, and questions of reputation. Tones range from light satire to quieter poignancy, with many pieces resolving through practical choices, social negotiation, or unexpected reversals. The collection emphasizes manners and character observation, using tight plotting and wry observation to show how pride, prudence, and chance determine personal outcomes.

Angela swallowed her last morsel of truffle, and drank her last drain of champagne. The sound of a motor was heard in the lane outside.

The Duke looked at his watch and sighed. She came up to him and stretched out her hand.

“And so are you—very delightful,” she said.

The Duke bent low and lightly kissed her hand.

“How am I to think of you?” she asked.

“We’ll each think of the other as of an evening’s holiday,” he said. “Some streak of variety across life—a dream, if you will—a sample of what we seek and see and lose. Or do I put my claim too high?”

“No,” she said softly. “But I must go back to my home.”

“And to your Chief Constable?”

She drew away from him, saying, a trifle defiantly: “I love him.”

“Yes; but you’ve enjoyed your evening?” asked the Duke.

“Oh, it’s been fun!” she cried, with a sudden gurgling laugh.

She darted her hand out to him again. This time he pressed it. She turned and ran out of the house. At ten-twenty-eight she arrived at the vicarage (the Duke had left a margin), and wrote to Captain Anderson to call very early and fetch away a motor-car. She would keep Mrs Hordern in bed till lunch-time; and the vicar never entered the unused stables.

As for the Duke, he changed his clothes and drove down to the Savoy.

As he was finishing his coffee in his dressing-room the next morning, Frank said: “I beg your Grace’s pardon?”

“Well, Frank?” said the Duke encouragingly.

“Does your Grace return to-day to the allotment?”

“Surely, Frank, I have told you before now that I prefer not to have my movements suggested to me?”

“Yes, your Grace; I know, your Grace. But—but what am I to do with the allotment and the cottage?”

“Pay for them, to be sure, Frank,” said the Duke.

“I’ve done that, your Grace.”

“Then what remains to be done? You buy a thing, you pay for it, use it, perhaps enjoy it” (he smiled contentedly)—“what more remains?”

“I—I don’t know, your Grace.”

“No more do I, Frank. You can take away the breakfast.”

 

THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Dramatic Rights are reserved and protected as required by law.

[2] Dramatic Rights are reserved and protected as required by law.

Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
the season was the mouth of June=> the season was the month of June {pg 10}
endurance of the Marchesa=> endurance of the Marchesa {pg 13}
warning off tresspassers=> warning off trespassers {pg 34}
As the same instant=> At the same instant {pg 68}
hidden in the shubbery=> hidden in the shrubbery {pg 78}
Lynborongh sank again=> Lynborough sank again {pg 100}
ths Doctor and his wife=> the Doctor and his wife {pg 103}
brightened to a new brillance=> brightened to a new brilliance {pg 286}