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The Warden | Anthony Trollope | |
VI. The Warden's Tea Party |
Page 3 of 7 |
'And Eleanor, John?' said the sister, looking timidly into her brother's face. 'Eleanor, that is, Miss Harding, if she thinks fit--that is, if her father--or, rather, if she--or, indeed, he--if they find it necessary--but there is no necessity now to talk about Eleanor Harding; but this I will say, that if she has the kind of spirit for which I give her credit, she will not condemn me for doing what I think to be a duty.' And Bold consoled himself with the consolation of a Roman. Mary sat silent for a while, till at last her brother reminded her that the notes must be answered, and she got up, and placed her desk before her, took out her pen and paper, wrote on it slowly:
'PAKENHAM VILLAS 'I--' and then stopped, and looked at her brother. 'Well, Mary, why don't you write it?' 'Oh, John,' said she, 'dear John, pray think better of this.' 'Think better of what?' said he. 'Of this about the hospital--of all this about Mr Harding-- of what you say about those old men. Nothing can call upon you--no duty can require you to set yourself against your oldest, your best friend. Oh, John, think of Eleanor. You'll break her heart, and your own.' 'Nonsense, Mary; Miss Harding's heart is as safe as yours.' |
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The Warden Anthony Trollope |
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