"Mary is not going," she said.
"Not going to Cheltenham!"
"It has all been put off. She shan't go at all if I can help it."
"But why has it been put off, Mrs. Masters?"
"Lady Ushant is coming to Bragton. I suppose that poor man is
dying."
"He is very ill certainly."
"And if anything happens there who can say what may happen anywhere
else? Lady Ushant will have something else except Mary to think of,
if her own nephew comes into all the property."
"I didn't know she was such friends with the Squire as that"
"Well;--there it is. Lady Ushant is coming to Bragton and Mary is
not going to Cheltenham." This she said as though the news must be
of vital importance to Larry Twentyman. He stood for awhile
scratching his head as he thought of it. At last it appeared to him
that Mary's continual residence in Dillsborough would of itself
hardly assist him. "I don't see, Mrs. Masters, that that will make
her a bit kinder to me."
"Larry, don't you be a coward,--nor yet soft."
"As for coward, Mrs. Masters, I don't know--"
"I suppose you really do love the girl."
"I do;--I think I've shown that."
"And you haven't changed your mind?"
"Not a bit"
"That's why I speak open to you. Don't you be afraid of her. What's
the letter which a girl like that writes? When she gets tantrums
into her head of course she'll write a letter.
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