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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

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"Not as unhappy as you think," said May, smiling.
"All nonsense, I call it," pursued the old lady. "Sandro knew best; now
you've put notions into his head. Oh, I daresay you were bound to, my
dear."
"How can you be so blind?" murmured May. Aunt Maria shook her head
derisively; she was not blind, it was the wife and the doctors who were
blind. "You're not to say that sort of thing to Alexander," May went on
imperiously. Aunt Maria put her head on one side and smiled sardonically.
"You used to agree with me," she said. "Has the Mildmay woman been here
again?"
"No; she's at home. We shall see her perhaps at Henstead."
"Henstead! What are you going there for?"
"And you said you knew Alexander!" laughed May. "You don't suppose he's
going into retirement without a display of fireworks? The Henstead speech
is to be made. Then we put up the shutters--for a year at least, as I
say."
"That's something. Is he interested in it?"
"Oh, yes, working all day. But he's wonderfully well. I've never seen him
better." She hesitated and laughed a little.


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