Helena by Mrs. Humphry Ward
page 41 of 288 (14%)
page 41 of 288 (14%)
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"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" she said presently, as the white skirts swept past her. "Mind! Not a bit. What do you want to know?" "Are you in love with Lord Donald?" Helena laughed. "If I were, do you think I'd let him run away with Lady Preston or anybody else? Not at all! Lord Donald's just one of the men I like talking to. He amuses me. He's very smart. He knows everybody. He's no worse than anybody else. He did all sorts of plucky things in the war. I don't ask Buntingford to like him, of course. He isn't his sort. But he really might let me alone!" "But you asked him to stay in Lord Buntingford's house--and without consulting--" "Well--and it's going to be _my_ house, too, for two years--if I can possibly bear it. When Mummy begged me, I told Buntingford my conditions. And he's broken them!" And standing still, the tempestuous creature drew herself to her full height, her arms rigid by her side--a tragic-comic figure in the dim illumination of the two guttering candles. Mrs. Friend attempted a diversion. |
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