Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. Then he stood up and repeated it again. ’ The girl nodded understandingly. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Ann Veronica glanced at the mirror to discover a flushed and dishevelled disorder. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. He wore a black tail coat buttoned tightly over his chest, and a large diamond pin sparkled in a white satin tie which had seen better days. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing.
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