Connexions (24)

Jul. 9th, 2025 08:40 am
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan
An admirable capacity to grasp a situation

Rosamund, Dowager Countess of Trembourne, was finding life in Delft curiously agreeable. Had quite seen the necessity of going into exile, somewhere where she would be most unlike to meet any of her social circles either from England or the Continent, before her condition became too apparent to conceal, but had supposed that 'twould be quite immensely tedious.

For she had been used to the diversions of the spaws and the cities she and her late lord had been in the habit of frequenting, quite aside from the excitements of her secret endeavours for the interests of the nation. And dear Gillie….

Even when they had returned to England, while there were still those shunned 'em after the scandal over slandering Clorinda Bexbury and Lord Trembourne had been obliged to publish a public apology in the newspapers, they were still received in enough circles to have a bustling social life, as well as a deal of family matters in train with all this marrying and begetting.

So she had anticipated that it would be exceedingly dull to rest and wait upon lying-in, and then to be brought to bed, and fancied that at her time of life might take rather longer than had been wont in earlier years to recover from her travails once that was done. Entirely ennuyant.

But she had not imagined how much she would feel freed of a burden: like to float up like unto a balloon. Sure she and her late husband had not lived in one another’s pockets, had not shared a conjugal bed since before Lewis’s birth: but he had ever been there, moping about complaining of draughts or stuffiness and sitting down to table to discourse of the unwholesomeness of whatever fare had been set before 'em, and getting into a fret about some symptom he supposed he had. Boring everybody about his spaws and his quacks &C.

At least he did not recount aught about the ladies that provided for his particular pleasures – one felt a little sorry for the creatures, though supposed they were well-remunerated for their trouble.

Here she was, under the care of Mevrouw Peeters, that was kind, and competent, and not in the least encroaching, a very good sort of woman, one perceived that midwives were considerably esteemed in these parts. And the house so very clean and well-kept.

She might beguile the time by improving her understanding of Dutch, one never knew when that might come to be of use, whilst also polishing her abilities in cyphers and lock-picking. And dear good Grissie, sure she did not deserve that her daughter had turned out so well, had put into her trunks materials for embroidery and some several novels.

She entirely did not deserve that Clorinda Bexbury, that must have a deal of business upon hand, sent her the English newspapers accompanied by letters that contained gossip about the inwardness of various matters reported. La, Talshaw dead of some accident! though Saythingport had very properly ceased pursuing that suit to Nora as most improper while the family was in mourning.

But she had not imagined how much time she would pass in simply doating upon tiny Penelope. Had found it not only possible, but strangely pleasant, to feed her herself, although Mevrouw Peeters was quite able to find a wetnurse was one required. Look into those miniature features and endeavour to discern some resemblance to Gillie. Wonder whether the blue eyes of babyhood would darken to that warm brown…. Gaze upon the little hands and feet as if she had never seen a baby before.

Indeed, she had give little enough attention to her others. Had seemed to her an entire ordeal from the begetting to the birth – the months of the discomforts of increase – the time out of the pleasures of Society – And then once born, the infants handed over to wetnurses and nurserymaids.

How different things were, now.

Mevrouw Peeters strongly commended the practice of going promenade somewhat, now that Rosamund was growing stronger – though forbade her yet from carrying the babe herself, so she was followed by Geertje with the child well-bundled-up as she walked along beside the canals, or ventured as far as the Markt square with its bustle and fine buildings.

As they were about to re-enter, came out Mevrouw, saying that there was a gentleman come call for Her Ladyship, that she had put in the best parlour.

A gentleman? Rosamund put out a hand to steady herself against the door. She could only suppose it to be Undersedge, come with some news that should be delivered in person – she could not suppose that the matter of Talshaw was of any great urgency but oh dear, mayhap somewhat had come to Hermione?

She gulped, straightened her back, desired Geertje to take Penelope to her nursery and went towards the best parlour, that was very seldom used.

As she opened the door, she saw that that was too tall to be Greg Undersedge – took a second or so to realize, yes, that was Gillie, Gillie that had somehow found out her refuge. She shut the door behind her and leant against it, her legs trembling.

Why Delft, asked Gillie, though I quite apprehend that it is entirely out of any society that you are to know, a retreat quite like unto a convent perchance.

You are unacquainted with Mevrouw’s profession?

Gillie frowned. Profession?

Rosamund took a breath, stood up straight, leant over to take his hand. Come, she said, opening the door, and leading him upstairs to the nursery, where Penelope was already sleeping peacefully in her crib.

Mevrouw is a very skilled midwife.

Gillie looked down into the cradle, and then up to Rosamund. Ours?

Sir Vernon had initially commended Lord Gilbert to her as a young man that had an admirable capacity to grasp a situation with exemplary rapidity. She nodded. Her name is Penelope.

He picked her up quite surprizing confident for a young bachelor, then Rosamund collected that he had several nephews and nieces, so perchance had some practice in the art. She watched him thoughtfully scrutinizing her.

A pretty babe, he remarked at length. What are you intending to do with her?

She caught his uneasy tone.

Fie, I am not going to leave her outside some foundling institution! She took Penelope, that was still peaceably slumbering, in her own arms. No, 'tis my intention to take her to Yeomans –

Yeomans!

My dear, you must have had the thoughts I have had that perchance the orphans are not quite as bereft of parents as 'tis give out? Even did those parents mayhap not go to church with one another.

Indeed I have supposed 'em mostly by-blows rather than true orphans! Doubtless of friends of Miss Ferraby that found subscribing to her views cost 'em rather too dearly.

Well, 'twould be unmannerly to interrogate upon the matter, but Clorinda Bexbury assured me that Miss Ferraby and Miss Roberts would be entirely agreeable to taking Penelope –

Gillie grinned and said, and she would be in the hands of that peerless mistress of nurseries, Betty Higgins! One could not have the least objection. Those very healthful surroundings – Essie entirely commends the characters of the existing family – for of course visits quite often, still doats on the fiery Flora, to the great distress of all aspirants to his hand – there is an excellent governess – indeed, a prime solution to any difficulty. For Sir Vernon, I must reveal, is most anxious to call you back into the game – has been worrying at me and any other who might know to discover where you are.

She kissed Penelope and placed her back in the crib. The dear thing. But one saw that it would not do to keep her with her, no, she must put her in that very excellent situation among good kind people.

She took Gillie’s hand. I am gratified to hear that Sir V thinks so well of my services! I daresay for the next several months I must be about lingering at spaws, repairing my nerves from the shock of my husband’s death. But I daresay there may be work to be at there.

Indeed, she thought, she was still somewhat knocked up from bearing Penelope, at her age 'twas no light business, recruiting was only sensible.

But let us go and take coffee so that you may tell me what you have been about.

So they went to sit in the parlour, and Gillie recounted his adventures on Rozovsky’s estate, and how the Imbremeres did, and then how things had gone in St Petersburg, and then throughout the Baltic –

Very cold, he remarked. But now, after this short holiday at home in the bosom of my family, I am bound for Paris.

Paris, sighed Rosamund. Alas, that is not a destination for a grieving widow I fear – mayhap when I am out of black – but I might try one or other of the French spaws – Vichy? one hears well of it. Or Spa would not be any very great distance, would it?

Gillie sighed. I fear Sir V may have opinions in the matter and desire you to go to Carlsbad

Rosamund groaned.

– or Baden-Baden, now that would not be an entire impossibility

They sighed. Duty to the nation’s interests, it had to be considered, and here she had been, resting up very comfortable these several months.

A silence fell.

I suppose, Gillie began, stammered, began again, I have been in some thought – now that you are free – that now there is no obstacle

O, Gillie! He had never looked so young.

Rosamund took a deep breath. My dear, she said, do not go further towards where I think you tend. 'Twould be entirely unanswerable –

And one day, she surmized, there would be a younger woman that would ensnare his heart, she could not imagine that this could endure – however much it had become more than a flirtation or a brief indulgence – however little could she deny that 'twas love

No, she would not tie him in formal bonds. And while they might keep the matter clandestine, was it ever revealed, she shrank from the spiteful gossip there would be. Had circulated too much of the like herself.

Now, she said, I fear you should depart. I may tell Mevrouw that you have been bringing me news and messages from family and friends, but I do not think it wise to make it look any more than that you were passing through and did that civil task.

Slowly he nodded. Wisest, he conceded. Lifted her hand to his lips. Until Vichy, then.


News & Views

Jul. 8th, 2025 06:18 pm
stonepicnicking_okapi: ChopSuey (chopsuey)
[personal profile] stonepicnicking_okapi
1. It is day #2 of my job and I had to call #911 for my client. Talk about being thrown in the deep end! He's okay and I'm okay but it was still a wild second day.

2. Also Minisculus woke up with neck pain enough to make him sob and scream, and I had to leave him. I am being thrown the working mom angst right from the start.

3. But Minisculus placed 7th in his race at the regional club championship so he got to stand on the podium and a bronze medal the size of a dinner plate.

I'm trying to figure out my routine. I will add a second client on Thursday so I suppose I am waiting for that to figure out what I do when (like grocery shopping). I am reminding myself to take it easy and just handle one enormous shift at a time. Being a working mom fand having my kid be a latch key kid is enough for this week.

Walk

Jul. 8th, 2025 06:04 pm
mildred_of_midgard: (Default)
[personal profile] mildred_of_midgard
Knee getting slightly better, but still oscillating back and forth between the front part hurting and the back part hurting, depending on how exactly I angle my foot when I'm using the computer.

I did manage a little over 29 miles of walking on Friday, but I had to lie down constantly because my back was hurting. I'm sure if not for that, I would have had to stop for other things (right foot, left knee, left hamstrings), but not *this* much! It took 12 hours to cover 29 miles. Even accounting for ice cream, snacks, and bathroom pit stops, it should have been an hour or two less at least.

I'm not sure why my back got so much worse some time between November and May. I hope it gets un-worse soon. I still haven't sorted out the mattress thing (it may be a delusion that I ever will, as in 4 years, I haven't, but I won't give up hope as long as I have new ideas to try out), so it needs to get back to where it was on its own!

Friday's walk: a LARGE cardamom Persian ice cream at the place in Watertown! In fact, so large that the lady thought I wanted a carton to take home. "No, ice cream lady, I will eat it all right here. Hand it over with all speed." :D

I also saw Perkins School for the Blind. When I was looking at the map for the ice cream place, that name jumped out at me in the vicinity, and indeed: it is the same school that Annie Sullivan and Hellen Keller went to. So I walked over there and took a couple pics of the signs. It's a nice-looking campus!

I'm hoping my back, knee, and hamstrings hold up for another long walk this weekend! If I can't run, I at least want to walk. I'd like to get my walks up to over 30 miles. At this point, I think my legs can do it, it's my back that makes it simply take too long to fit in one day (plus my knees' inability to shave off some time by running).

July has already been busy

Jul. 8th, 2025 02:58 pm
azurelunatic: Vivid pink Alaskan wild rose. (Default)
[personal profile] azurelunatic
Susan visited!

Thorn didn't get carjacked by a Bigfoot.

(no subject)

Jul. 8th, 2025 01:25 pm
sholio: sun on winter trees (Default)
[personal profile] sholio
I have discovered Enemies to Lovers exchange. o deer.

THAT being said, I really need to put a cork in the new exchange signups for a bit. Summer of Horror and Temperature Flash both reveal somewhere around this weekend, as well as that being the Casefic submission deadline. I have a pinch hit, I have things to edit, and I haven't even started Just Married.

Today it's rainy AND smoky, a wonderful combination.
matsushima: you'll simply need to keep evolving (let me see)
[personal profile] matsushima posting in [community profile] agonyaunt
I’ve been working at a university library for a little over a year now and have had a hard time making friends. Shortly after I started, I befriended a coworker, “Morgan,” who is also relatively new, and it has been nice getting to know them and commiserating about how hard it is to make friends in a new city and workplace.

Over the course of our friendship, Morgan has opened up more and more about the interpersonal problems they’ve had with our colleagues. They describe scenarios where collaborative projects get stalled because other stakeholders stop communicating with them, coworkers they were getting lunch with on a weekly basis suddenly stop responding to chats, and other frustrations with navigating bureaucracy that interferes with their work. It’s hard to tell if Morgan is becoming increasingly disgruntled or if they are now very comfortable with telling me their unfiltered feelings.

I’ve also had to navigate some fairly horrendous problems as a new employee, so it’s been nice to have a coworker who understands and sympathizes with our (somewhat) dysfunctional workplace culture. Morgan has made it very clear to me that they are only here for the time being and have already decided that this is not the city they would like to stay in long-term. Personally, I want to retire here and have worked very hard to improve my situation. It feels very different for me today than it did a year ago, which is why it’s become increasingly difficult to navigate Morgan’s constant negativity.

Morgan can be a lot of fun to talk to, but they’re in an increasingly bad mental space at work. They frequently come to my office to gripe for an hour or two in spite of how busy I am; I’m always actively working and trying to concentrate when they pop into my office. To my fault, they ask if it’s a good time to chat and I always say yes because they’ve been so hurt by our coworkers pulling away and I’m afraid of upsetting them. On top of this, they’ve become increasingly argumentative with me when they’re looking to talk. Again, I would say this is my fault because they are looking to vent and I’m always trying to provide solutions, so I think it’s taken as invalidating Morgan’s feelings.

Morgan is in such a bad mental space at work that seemingly any type of feedback or dialogue that they disagree with comes off as an attack. One of the issues they’ve had with multiple colleagues is that they invalidate Morgan’s feelings. Morgan has described situations where they complained about something to a colleague and rather than agreeing with and consoling Morgan, they essentially said to look on the bright side. For example, Morgan was upset about a change made to their office and the coworker responded with, “At least you have your own office.” Morgan has many examples of conversations like this and cites it as a workplace culture issue. In addition, Morgan holds on to comments like this (that took place months and months ago) and often refers back to them as examples of how bad things are. At this point, I am very afraid of upsetting Morgan because I like them, and their hyper-sensitivity is a bit triggering in light of all the reparative work I’ve done for my position and unit.

One more detail about Morgan that I think plays a factor is their odor. Morgan has a strong mildewy smell wherever they go. The odor fills a room and I can often tell if they’ve recently been in a space because of the smell. I believe Morgan maintains good hygiene practices, but that they are unaware of the fact that a lot of their clothing has developed a pungent mildew odor. Depending on how strongly they smell, it can be very difficult to spend extended periods of time with them. I’ve avoided spending time with them outside of work, like inviting them to my home, because the smell is so off-putting and am wondering if it has contributed to their interactions with coworkers.

How do I take a step back with Morgan without further inciting them?


Alison's answer )

- how do I step back from a friendship with an intensely negative and argumentative coworker?
sovay: (Rotwang)
[personal profile] sovay
Probably because it has been weeks since I slept more than a couple of hours a night and months since I had what would be medically termed a good night's sleep, I spent at least ten hours last night unconscious enough to dream and it was amazing. Under ideal circumstances I would devote my afternoon to reading on the front steps until the thunderstorms arrive. Under the resentful circumstances of realism I have already devoted considerable of my afternoon to phone calls with doctors and will need to enact capitalism while I have the concentration for it. I may still try to take a walk. I have a sort of pressure headache of movies I managed to watch before I ran completely out of time and would like to talk about even in shallow and unsatisfactory ways. I heard Kaleo's "Way Down We Go" (2015) on WERS and am delighted that the video was shot in the dormant volcano Þríhnúkagígur. I will associate it with earthquake-bound Loki. My brain thought it should dream about nonexistent Alan Garner and what I very much doubt will be the second season of Murderbot (2025–).

[edit] Taking a walk informed me that the sidewalk of the street at the bottom of our street has been spray-painted with a swastika, visible efforts to scrub it out notwithstanding. The sentiment is far from shocking, but the placement is rather literally close to home.
oursin: Fotherington-Tomas from the Molesworth books saying Hello clouds hello aky (Hello clouds hello sky)
[personal profile] oursin

The following are all in the area of environmental history: enjoy!

Rebecca Beausaert. Pursuing Play: Women's Leisure in Small-Town Ontario, 1870-1914.

Beausaert’s discussion of the growing popularity of outdoor recreation in the early twentieth century, as opposed to earlier forms of indoor leisure such as book clubs and church gatherings, also highlights the role of women in the rise of environmental activism in towns like Elora. In these communities, grassroots efforts to maintain the local environment and cater to the influx of ecotourism travelers flourished, further illustrating the agency of women in shaping both their social and environmental landscapes.

***

Robert Aquinas McNally. Cast Out of Eden: The Untold Story of John Muir, Indigenous Peoples, and the American Wilderness:

McNally’s emphasis on the role of race in Muir’s thinking, and, therefore, on his vision of wilderness preservation, helps readers more clearly see Muir not as wilderness prophet but as a man of his time coming to terms with the consequences of American expansion.

***

B. J. Barickman. From Sea-Bathing to Beach-Going: A Social History of the Beach in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Edited by Kendrik Kraay and Bryan McCann:

The book begins with Rio in the nineteenth century and shows that Cariocas regularly went to bathe in the ocean. The work incorporates an assortment of sources to give a vivid picture of this process. For instance, it was customary for bathers to go before dawn—as early as 3 a.m.—since many in Rio went to bed early in the evening, but also due to colorism within Brazilian society. The dominant white society enjoyed swimming in the ocean but also prized fairer complexions and thus aimed to avoid the sun. Yet, few amenities existed for sea-bathers. The city dumped its sewage and trash into the ocean and provided few lifeguards, which resulted in frequent drownings.
In chapter 2, a personal favorite, Barickman discusses the evolution of sea bathing from a therapeutic practice (thalassotherapy) in the nineteenth century to a leisure activity that provided a space for socialization across gender lines by the 1920s. Locals went to the beach to escape the heat of the summer, rowing emerged as the most popular sport in the region, and, as in other parts of the world such as the United States and the Southern Cone, beach-going became a popular way to make or meet friends. In short, the beach became a public space at all hours of the day, not just before dawn. Moreover, the beach captured the “moral ambiguities” of nineteenth-century norms (51-63). Men and women of all races and classes could be present in public spaces partially nude, to observe others and to be observed, in ways that society did not permit beyond the beach, but this continually frustrated moral reformers.
Chapter 3 centers on the work of Rio’s civic leaders to “civilize” the city in hopes of altering public perception of the city as a “tropical pesthole” (p. 69).

***

David Matless. England’s Green: Nature and Culture Since the 1960s:

The range of sources and topics is impressive, but at times the evidence is noted so briefly and the prose proceeds so quickly that breadth is privileged over depth. For example, the deeper connections between England and global ideas of green (as defined by the International Union for Conservation of Nature and the World Wildlife Fund), the influence of colonial experience on conservation events of the 1970s, and the tensions between the various governmental nature management organizations would all have benefited from a little more attention. Yet, even if the reader sometimes wishes for a slower pace to get their thoughts in order, Matless offers enough analysis to build the examples up into a clear and insightful picture. The reader is left with a general appreciation of the central environmental debates of the period and good understanding of how they evolved over time. For scholars, it is a multidimensional study that adds something new and long awaited to British environmental and cultural history. For others, it is a fascinating book filled with interesting stories, cultural context, and many moments of nostalgia.

***

Michael Lobel. Van Gogh and the End of Nature.:

Lobel makes a systematic case for a new way of seeing Van Gogh’s paintings. Carefully introducing readers to a host of environmental conditions that shaped Van Gogh’s lived experience and appear repeatedly in his paintings—factories, railways, mining operations, gaslight, polluted waterways, arsenic, among others—Lobel compellingly invites us to see Van Gogh as an artist consistently grappling with the changing ecological world around him. Color and composition, as two of Van Gogh’s most heralded painterly qualities, appear now through an entirely different perception influenced by a clear environmental consciousness.

***

Ursula Kluwick. Haunting Ecologies: Victorian Conceptions of Water:

The author sets out to consider how Victorians understood water, seen through nineteenth-century fictional and nonfictional writings about the River Thames. In chapter 2 she points out the existence of writing that emphasizes how polluted the Thames was as well as writing that never mentions the pollution, and wonders at their coexistence. The conclusion that the writings don’t relate to any real state of the river is not particularly surprising but points to the author’s overall intent, summarized in the book’s title.

***

Alan Rauch. Sloth:

Rauch views these caricatural depictions—including portrayals of sloths as docile and naive creatures, as seen in the animated film Ice Age (2002)—as potentially detrimental to the species’ well-being. Through his analysis, the author critiques how sloths have been appropriated to fulfill human (emotional, cultural, and economic) needs and how this process misrepresents sloths, leading to harmful stereotypes that diminish their intrinsic value and undermine their agency.

(no subject)

Jul. 8th, 2025 06:01 am
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly posting in [community profile] agonyaunt
Dear Good Job,

I work as a speech therapist. At a family gathering, I noticed my cousin’s near 4-year-old could only say a few words and beg and point for items they wanted. They could only say “juice” or “Pad” and would cry if any other relative tried to engage them in conversation. I asked my aunt if this was normal behavior for the child, and she said yes but that she wasn’t concerned. At nearly 4, a child should be using full sentences of at least three or more words. It is a missed milestone and early intervention is key.

I checked the local school district, and they offer free screenings and testing that my cousin’s child would qualify for. I went to my aunt and suggested that, in my professional opinion, her grandchild might benefit from speech therapy or at least testing to make sure it wasn’t some other underlying problem. It was completely free and I sent her the info. I didn’t go directly to my cousin because I know some parents can be thin-skinned and defensive when it comes to advice from licensed professionals. I had parents rage at teachers for suggesting their kids need glasses because they can’t see the board.

Well, for my troubles, my cousin sent me an awful and barely coherent text telling me I was a busybody; because I don’t have kids, my opinion is worthless; and she is a mother, so she knows all, and especially what is best for her child, who is perfect. I left it alone after that. The problem is that two years later, the child started kindergarten and was diagnosed with a severe speech impediment, and the rationed therapy the school gives hasn’t really helped. My cousin had to enroll her child with a private therapist that her insurance doesn’t cover and it is pretty pricey. I know all this through the grapevine.

Then, at a family event, my aunt and cousin went off on my poor mother about how awful and selfish I am for not volunteering and helping in their hour of need. I never told anyone about the text since I didn’t want drama, but I kept it. Frankly, I am furious. I tried to help, and I thought I was respectful enough by just going to my aunt with the free resources that were available to my cousin. I didn’t press, preach, or accuse. But now, at this late date, they think publicly blaming me and dragging my poor mother into it will work? I am ready to go to war and I have the receipts, should I?

—Not Holding My Tongue


Read more... )

Dungeon Crawler Carl books 4 & 5

Jul. 7th, 2025 11:19 pm
sholio: sun on winter trees (Default)
[personal profile] sholio
"The Gate of the Feral Gods" and "The Butcher's Masquerade." I'd say this series is pretty solidly scifi now, so I'm tagging it that way.

Random spoilers )

Moving on soon to book 6, "The Eye of the Bedlam Bride"! No future spoilers, please!

Connexions (23)

Jul. 8th, 2025 08:38 am
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan
Very fine news

There had come about a habit in the Rondegate household that one morning in a week Lady Abertyldd would come visit with Lotty and Gianna, to see how Zipsie got on, exchange family news, play a little music and sing perchance, 'twas exceeding agreeable. How different a mother from Cecil’s own was Lady Abertyldd! And on hearing that he had no sisters of his own, to their great shock and distress, Lotty and Gianna had quite offered that as he was now entirely part of the family, they would be his sisters.

Zipsie had given a little amuzed snort upon hearing that – o, a brother, that may take them about on jaunts, and no doubt make 'em little gifts of sweetmeats &C, and mayhap they will work you a pocket-handkerchief or so in recompense. She smiled. But they are good girls, did they not keep that brat Millie in order?

But as this week’s call impended, Zipsie looked across the breakfast table with a little frown, saying, that she would desire an opportunity to convoke privately with Mama, might he offer to take the girls on some excursion? They are lately in a great desire to go to the East India Museum, a girl at their dancing class told 'em of the automaton of a tiger devouring a Company officer to the sound of horrid growls and anguished cries and they are quite wild to see it.

I am quite wild to see that myself! I will be about finding out the terms of admission, and take 'em off on that treat.

That is exceeding kind. And bring 'em back here for tea, so that they do not feel I neglect 'em – Mama will have left by then, and I have Mrs Lucas coming to discourse of ghazuls, but we may send 'em home in the carriage.

He wondered what it was that she desired to be closeted with her mother about: might it be mysteries of womanhood? or might there be some matter of Ollie having an escapade? For his recent letters had contained several mentions of a young actress that had turned out to be one they had known in childhood – Zipsie had wrinkled her nose a little and remarked that sure she recalled the Richardsons, they had been quite the cynosure in charades, even better than the Merretts!

And added that mayhap 'twould be a good thing to distract Ollie from yearning over Thea.

So Lotty and Gianna had quite jumped up and down and clapped their hands at the intelligence that he had arranged this visit to the East India Museum, and a most enjoyable time of it was had.

When they finally re-entered the house, he could hear that there was still activity in the music-room. He told the footman to order tea served in the Mozart salon, and told his sisters-in-law to run along there, while he went to see what was ado with his missus.

In the music-room he found Zipsie at the piano, with Mrs Lucas – a fine figure of a woman, and very graceful for all her stoutness – leaning over her – and a man standing at her other shoulder.

Good Lord, that was Davison! Had lately been elected to the club – friend of Sallington – Oxford don – ah yes, great scholar of Persian, that was it –

Zipsie looked up. Can it be tea-time already? We have been quite lost in Persia I am afraid to say – reft by djinni – well, beginning to find a way to come at setting these ghazuls – la, I am failing in my social duties –

Cecil smiled and said that he and Mr Davison were already acquainted by way of Lord Sallington. Had foolishly not occurred to him that Mr Davison’s studies might be of interest to Zipsie.

Davison said that had only quite lately turned his attention to Persian music, but this was a very fascinating problem of as 'twere translation.

But, said Zipsie, I fancy we have laboured long enough the day – and should go have tea afore my little sisters devour everything – She stood up, and started tidying music and books and papers together.

Mrs Lucas said she could not bide long – was staying at Pockinford House and her sister got into the greatest fret was one a little late –

Zipsie raised her eyebrows a little and said, had heard somewhat of that from Thea. But they might send her in the carriage with her sisters – would not be greatly out of the way to go by Pockinford House –

Cecil nodded and said, entirely answerable.

When they came to the Mozart salon they found Lotty and Gianna drinking raspberry shrub, and having already done a deal of damage to the neat arrangements on the cakestands. Zipsie grinned and went to ring for replenishments as she exhorted her sisters to stand up and show civil – introduced 'em in proper form to Davison – that looked less daunted than Cecil had feared, mayhap he had young sisters of his own?

It was less awkward of a tea-party than he had anticipated – of course, one fancied that Mrs Lucas, in her capacity as a rector’s wife, had a deal of experience along those lines! – and any attempt by Lotty and Gianna to represent the action of the automaton was firmly quashed.

After the girls and Mrs Lucas had been dispatched, Zipsie remaining in the salon to keep Davison company, Cecil returned to find Zipsie proposing that Mr Davison might stay to dine – since they were dining quietly at home the e’en –

One could see no harm. The chap was entirely acceptable, and one need not worry that he was one of those bachelors that insinuates himself in order to get up flirtation or worse with married women. Had that tiresome journey back to Oxford to look forward to.

It transpired that in fact Davison was not returning to Oxford, but was staying at Mulcaster House – Her Grace had lately acquired a most fascinating manuscript that desired to convoke with him concerning – but it so happened that all the family had engagements the e’en and he found himself a little at loose ends –

So, really, he was entirely the thing and a person one would very much wish to know – indeed, very much a friend of Sallington’s rather than a mere club acquaintance – had been to Nitherholme to advize Julius Roberts concerning a Persian garden

He and Zipsie glanced affectionately at one another over the table and revealed that their match had been made at Nitherholme – had seen less than he might have desired of Roberts – had had some notion of inviting him to Wepperell Larches –

Was soon revealed a deal of mutual acquaintance.

After the dessert, Zipsie rose with a little moue saying she would do the proper thing and leave the gentlemen to port and tobacco. He had noticed, during the several courses, that she had not been eating as heartily as her usual wont, and wondered was she a little out of health.

A slight uneasy silence fell.

Do you care for cigarillos? Cecil enquired, going to the sideboard. Sallington has give me quite the taste for 'em. Understand has found an importer so is not dependent upon gifts from di Serrante –

Davison accepted a cigarillo.

After they had puffed a little he cleared his throat and remarked how very enviable was Lord Rondegate’s situation – a wife of such accomplishments and so amiable a nature –

Indeed, Cecil agreed, I am most exceedingly fortunate. We sort very well together. Her family are the most agreeable people – in an excellent set –

They did not linger longer than it took to smoke one cigarillo apiece and consume a glass of port, before joining Zipsie in the Mozart salon.

Cecil scrutinized her surreptitiously, but in the lamp-light she did not appear particularly pale, or have dark shadows under her eyes, so mayhap he was worrying unduly.

At length Davison departed, refusing their offer of sending him in the gig – Cecil had a notion that he was going to drop in at the club before returning to Mulcaster House – but expressing enthusiastic appreciation at their hospitality.

I hope, said Zipsie, taking Cecil’s arm as they turned away from the front door, you did not mind my inviting him to dine – it was so much the habit at Bexbury House that I did not think to ascertain whether 'twould suit you – whenever there was no particular occasion and we were dining en famille there would be quite the congeries of guests – old comrades of Uncle Casimir’s – business colleagues of Granda – all sorts of Ollie and Follie’s friends – old Mr Dalrymple quite often –

O, be entirely easy, my dear! He is a most agreeable fellow that thinks very highly of your talents. And that is a very fine practice, though sure, I fancy 'tis more practicable to accommodate at Bexbury House when there are more than one or two unexpected guests –

Quite so. But, Cecil, really?

Really!

She blushed.

Then gulped, and said, had somewhat to communicate to him, and mayhap they might return to the parlour and sit down to it?

So they returned to the salon, and he offered to ring for fresh tea, but she shook her head and went to sit upon the sopha.

He sat down next to her and took her hand.

She gave a little sigh, and then said, had been feeling a little qualmish this last little while – naught very serious, yet, not my usual state of health, but nothing that seemed any matter to go consult a physician over –

Was that why you wished to be closeted with Lady Abertyldd?

Zipsie nodded. And indeed, 'twas extremely agreeable to talk to Mama without the girls there – have had hardly a chance since we returned to Town – and she was most exceeding reassuring. Said that sure, in the early days of marriage, the humours may go as 'twere somewhat out of order, and that is nothing to fret about, but she is like to think there are signs that I go with child, though one cannot be at all definite –

Zipsie! He put an arm around her. That is very fine news, and I daresay she also had very sound advice about how you should conduct yourself – take care – special matters of diet - &C?

She giggled and said, certainly so! But not to make a great deal of it yet, might be mistook.

Well, we shall not convey the intelligence to Tunbridge Wells, then! He could quite imagine that his mother would wish poor Zipsie to lie upon a sopha for the next several months, did she hear this news.


Recent reading

Jul. 7th, 2025 08:41 pm
troisoiseaux: (reading 7)
[personal profile] troisoiseaux
Currently reading Days of the Dead by Barbara Hambly, one of her Benjamin January historical mysteries, usually set in 1830s New Orleans, although this one sees newlyweds January and Rose take a busman's honeymoon to Mexico to rescue their friend Hannibal Sefton, who has been accused of murder. Enjoying this! It's very Gothic: the mad patriarch ruling over his isolated hacienda with an iron fist, where pretty much everyone else is on their way to madness if not already there; the picturesque ruins in the form of Aztec pyramids; and of course, People Getting Real Weird With Religion. So far, this book's historical cameo has been General Santa Anna, who I did not connect with the sea shanty "Santiana" until a reference to his nickname as "Napoleon of the West"; I've also noticed that Hambly has an apparent running joke with herself of slipping in the names of minor characters from Les Mis (e.g., Combeferre's Livery in Die Upon A Kiss) and assumed the French chef named Guillenormand was one of those, although the spelling differs slightly— and as this Guillenormand is a "heretic Revolutionist" who fled France upon the Bourbons' return to power, I doubt Hugo's Gillenormand would acknowledge any relation.

I'm approximately three-quarters through Dune and things have gotten really weird. (Jessica + the Water of Life ritual????) Also, oddly, this audiobook keeps slipping back and forth between using a full cast of different voice actors for the different characters and having a single narrator Doing Voices for all the characters, which has a very odd effect when it changes from scene to scene and the main narrator has a completely different way of reading, e.g., Count Fenring's verbal tic than the other, specific voice actor does. It has also introduced more of a soundscape, including (in a move so cliche it was accidentally funny) ambiguously exotic flute music when Paul's Fremen love interest Zendaya Chani was introduced. So far my favorite chapter/scene has been when Frank Herbert used one character's death to be like "AND IN THIS ESSAY I WILL—" about ecology, via that guy's dying hallucinations of his dead father.
sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey)
[personal profile] sovay
In the appendices of Alzina Stone Dale's 1984 edition of Dorothy L. Sayers and Muriel St. Clare Byrne's Busman's Honeymoon (1936), reproduced for the first time from a handwritten sheet by Sayers with an additional scribble from Byrne, I have found perhaps the greatest production note I have read in a playscript in my life:

Warning

The murder contrivance in Act III Scene 2 will not work properly unless it is sufficiently weighted. It is therefore GENUINELY DEADLY.

Producers are earnestly requested to see that the beam, chain & attachments & the clearance above the head of the actor playing CRUTCHLEY are thoroughly tested at every performance
immediately before the beginning of the Scene, in order to avoid a POSSIBLY FATAL ACCIDENT.

How is it that in this our era of infinite meta when See How They Run (2022) was a real film that came out in theaters and not someone's especially clever Yuletide treat no Sayers fan has ever worked this note into a fictional production of Busman's Honeymoon where the blasphemed aspidistra exacted a worse revenge than corroded soot? I don't want to write it, I'm just amazed no one's taken advantage of it. I wouldn't mind knowing either if the 1988 revival with Edward Petherbridge and Emily Richards found a way of reproducing the effect without risking their Crutchley, since Byrne's "Note to Producers" describes the stage trick in technical detail down to the supplier of the globes for the lamp and she still agreed with Sayers—she wanted the warning inserted before the relevant scene in the acting edition—that it could wreck an actor if not set up with belt-and-braces care. Otherwise I am most entertained so far that according to Dale, while the collaboration between the two women was much more mutual than an author and her beta-reader, Byrne characteristically put in the stage business and directions which it seems Sayers was less inclined to write than dialogue. This same edition includes Sayers' solo-penned and previously unpublished Love All (1941) and testifies to the further treasury of the Malden Public Library, whose poetry section when we were directed to it turned out to be a miscellany of anthologies, plays, and biographies shading into what used to be shelved as world literature. I have three more Christies for my mother, another unfamiliar Elizabeth Goudge, another unfamiliar Elleston Trevor, some nonfiction on an angle of women's war work and the Battle of the Atlantic that I actually know nothing about, and the summer play of Christopher Fry's seasonal quartet. I am running on about a fifth of a neuron at this point, but [personal profile] rushthatspeaks bought me ice cream.
nanila: me (Default)
[personal profile] nanila
I have been struggling to concentrate today. It was hard not to spiral back to that day. I had been living in London (and therefore the UK) for less than a year. I spent much of the day unable to contact family and friends to reassure them I was OK because the mobile networks were overwhelmed. I remember walking the crowded streets to meet friends and my then-partner. The faces of the shuffling Londoners. The relentless wail of sirens.

I'm coping by watching the BBC documentary series on the bombings. For some reason I need some kind of external validation for feeling the way I do today and this is providing it.

(Access locked) Posts from that date: DW, LJ

Here is what I wrote on the 8th of July, 2005. I don't think I agree with myself here, not entirely. I was rationalising my own fear. The body count is also the point.

Terrorism isn't about the reality of statistics. Of the several million people living in or visiting the greater London area, a tiny percentage were physically hurt or killed by the bombings. A slightly larger percentage witnessed them firsthand, and a huge number of them were temporarily inconvenienced by the shutdown of the London Transport system. The chances that the next bus or tube journey that the average Londoner makes will have a bomb on it are not much greater than they were yesterday or will be tomorrow. But, as I said, this is not about statistics. It's about the perception of statistics. However miniscule your chances were and are of being blown to bits by a terrorist attack, they are now at the forefront of your mind, whether you want them to be or not.

Terrorism isn't about the frequency of occurrence of terrorist acts, or of similar kinds of attacks made during open war. Londoners of different generations experienced the Blitz and the IRA bombings of the 1980s. Many of them have been through this before. However, it is the very unpredictability of terrorism that makes it so frightening, that makes a return to normalcy as difficult as it was the last time, because the ordinary citizen has no way of knowing when, where or if another attack will happen.

People deal with this in a myriad of ways. Some become defiant, others resigned. Some find themselves swallowing down fear for weeks, months or years after the events, every time they board a bus or enter an Underground station. This is the real point of terrorist attacks, not the body count. All emotional responses are fully permissible, but it is the way that we act upon them that will determine whether or not we build a world in which the slight probability of terrorist attack on the average citizen will continue to be a weapon that can wield so much power.
stonepicnicking_okapi: record player (recordplayer)
[personal profile] stonepicnicking_okapi
I survived my first day of work! Huzzah!

So we have to play this song.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin

Reading this, I'm very much reminded of certain sff stories I read - late 60s/early 70s - that were either directly influenced by this research or via the population panic works that riffed off it: review of Lee Alan Dugatkin. Dr. Calhoun's Mousery: The Strange Tale of a Celebrated Scientist, a Rodent Dystopia, and the Future of Humanity. Does this ping reminiscence in anyone else? (I was reading a lot of v misc anthologies etc in early 70s before I found my real niche tastes).

***

What Is a 'Lavender Marriage,' Exactly? Feel that there is a longer and (guess what) Moar Complicated history around using conventional marriage to protect less conventional unions, but maybe it's a start towards interrogating the complexities of 'conventional marriages'.

***

Sardonic larffter at this: 'I'm being paid to fix issues caused by AI'

***

Not quite what one anticipates from a clergyman's wife? The undercover vagrant who exposed workhouse life - a bit beyond vicarage/manse teaparties, Mothers' Meetings or running the Sunday School!

***

Changes in wedding practice: The Cambridge Group for the History of Population and Social Structure: Wedding Days:

After the Reformation, Anglican canon law required that marriages took place in the morning, during divine service, in the parish of either the bride or groom – three features which typically elude modern weddings, which usually take place in the afternoon, in a special ceremony, and are far less likely (even if a religious wedding) to take place within a couple’s home parish. The centrality of divine service is the starkest difference, as it ensured that, unlike in modern weddings, marriages were public events at which the whole congregation ought to be present. They might even have occurred alongside other weddings or church ceremonies such as baptisms. A study of London weddings in the late 1570s found that, unsurprisingly given the canonical requirements, Sunday was the most popular days for weddings, accounting for c.44 percent of marriages taking place in Southwark and Bishopsgate. (By contrast, Sunday accounted for just 5.9 percent of marriages in 2022).

***

Dorothy Allison Authored a New Kind of Queer Lit (or brought new perspectives into the literature of class?) I should dig out my copies of her works.

fox: my left eye.  "ceci n'est pas une fox." (Default)
[personal profile] fox posting in [community profile] agonyaunt

Dear Eric: I am very much enjoying the second time around following a long and less than joyful first marriage. My problem is plans for burial.

All of our children are terribly against our marriage even though both of our spouses were deceased at the time we met. Our children have virtually no relationship with us now and if there is any contact it is ugly.

I have a cemetery plot out of state with my deceased wife. My wife has a local plot with her deceased husband. I would like to get a new plot for the two of us but expect that any such request would receive pushback and be ignored.

My wife’s mother is buried with her second husband using her last name at the time of her death and her father is buried with a subsequent wife so there is precedent for what I want but I know her daughter would require that her mother be buried next to her father.

How do I get what I want?

I have not discussed any of this with my wife. If I did and she brought it up with her daughter the reaction would be for the daughter to express her displeasure by keeping the grandchildren from my wife. She has done that for less. If I am to get a plot, I should do that sooner rather than later as they are in short supply.

While living I would feel great joy if I could know that I could count on being buried beside my wife for all of eternity. Am I being silly to not just take the easy route?

— Burial Conflict

Plans: You have every right to make a burial plan that suits your life and your love. And — this might be controversial — you don’t have to tell your kids. If you have virtually no relationship as it is, you certainly don’t need to bend to their wishes. It seems there’s no pleasing them, anyway.

In general, it’s better to communicate about final wishes and plans for one’s end-of-life in advance. This helps intentions to be understood and gets questions answered while you’re still around to answer them. But the conflict that’s roiling your family complicates things.

Without knowing more about the circumstances of your marriage, I can’t say your kids are completely wrong, but the punishment you mentioned is more than concerning.

Perhaps they’re struggling with acceptance because of unprocessed grief, perhaps there’s something else going on that I’m not privy, too. Either way, the stated conditions dictate that the burial conversation should happen only between you and your wife right now. Once you’re both on the same page, you’ll know what the next step is. That might mean purchasing a joint plot that makes you happy and appointing someone other than one of your kids as executor. (That last part is probably wise regardless.)

There would still be a lot of complications, of course. Namely, one of you will predecease the other and at that point, presumably, the kids would find out the plan. So, while you are working on doing what brings you joy, I’d also encourage you to get down to the root of what’s going on with your kids.

Connexions (22)

Jul. 7th, 2025 08:38 am
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan
Had rather not be revealed

Sandy did not anticipate that Maurice was like to be at the club the e’en – was quite the height of Mamzelle Bridgette’s bustling time, the Season still a-whirl and already ladies wishing to be beforehand concerning the wardrobes wherewith they would devastate summer house-parties. But he had a deal less fret over his lover’s health during this time now that he came to apprehend the confederacy of his relatives, that sent Thomasina with a well-supplied basket to sustain her in her toil, and la, she did not dare take any back uneaten! So Maurice was at least eating good food from Euphemia’s kitchen, even was he staying up until all hours.

Mysell-Monting looked up from the chess-board and sighed that he might as well resign, for he could not see any way to evade this trap that MacDonald had got him into, tipped over his king, and rose. Sandy suspected that there was also some matter of an anticipated assignation – sure he would have liked to interrogate Mysell-Monting about his painful pleasures, that he found a very curious matter that converse with Maurice’s sister had not come about to greatly elucidate.

He stood up himself and took up his glass of whisky. Came squeaking towards him Chumball and Pemberton.

MacDonald! Have you heard? Pemb lately had an epistle from Wappinge, that goes antiquarianize in the vicinity of Naples, and in among the minutiae of the statues and ruins &C he has seen, mentions that Basil Linsleigh is about in Society in those parts.

Insofar, said Pemberton lugubriously, does one count Yankees as Society, as we apprehend Linsleigh is staying with some people called Rutledge, from Virginia.

Sandy took a sip from his glass and conceded that he had had some intelligence of Linsleigh’s whereabouts, and that he had not expired like Byron of marsh fever or been slain by Albanian bandits.

Do you suppose he will return? Sure the scandal was a seven-days wonder.

Chumball sniggered and said, did Wappy not mention some model he was painting of quite surpassing beauty?

So, thought Sandy, Marcello had managed to place one of their allies to keep watch upon Basil and his activities, as he had intended. He doubted that Basil was in any eagerness to return to English shores, since he had fled not because of any fear of a scandal over sodomy but from criminal charges to do with illicit black-birding. He remarked that he recalled from his own visits to Lady Bexbury’s villa in those parts that indeed, the local fellows were of exceeding handsome looks, and, it was given out, very willing to oblige Milords Inglesi for quite modest remuneration.

Chumball and Pemberton looked wistful.

Came up Sir Hartley Zellen, saying, did you mention Lady B’s villa? Have just had a letter from Verena, has been some while on its way, about their departing from Rozofsky’s estates and making the journey by way of the Mediterranean, and that they had been offered the hospitality there did they pass through Naples.

One observed that Sir Hartley manifested a pleasing paternal affection towards Verena even had she been staying for some months with her real father, as he remarked upon her various exploits in the Ukraine. Of course, Lady Zellen’s three lovely daughters entirely did him credit – all beautiful, for their fathers had been quite the match to Honora Zellen in looks! – well-trained by their mama in the ways of Society, and had all made good matches, though Verena’s was the most outstandingly remarkable, an entire love-match with Gussie Imbremere, heir to the Marquess of Offgrange.

Did MacDonald care to dine?

Alas, said Sandy, Offerton has been very pressing for me to dine with him privately as has some discreet matter wishes to unfold –

They all looked knowing, for Sandy had a justified reputation for looking into troublesome matters with discretion and bringing about an acceptable resolution. Was that not, in fact, how he had met Maurice? Investigating the theft of his notions by a newcome modiste, Madame Francine.

And here came Terence Offerton, horsey-looking chap with thinning hair, cheeks reddened with broken veins, making amiable to the company though with some air of being eager to be closeted with Sandy.

Sandy hoped that 'twas not some matter of horseflesh – sure he could not count himself as expert in matters of racing and breeding and training, though he supposed he might call upon the knowledge of Belinda Penkarding did it come to it.

As they settled into the private dining-room they exchanged a little general conversation – what sort of a racing-season was Offerton having? Did Sandy ever hear aught of Leo Harper? – but once they had been served and the door closed upon 'em Offerton came to his concern.

Had lately discovered his head groom had took on a young fellow – indeed the matter was of some urgency, one of the other grooms had contrived to break an arm and another had took a fever – that seemed entire all one could desire in the way of handling cattle, a very good way with him – but what gave one to pause was that had been discharged without a character by Blatchett –

 Sandy managed not to start at this intelligence.

Had been employed at Blatchett’s hunting-box in Buckinghamshire – and the tale is, one day His Lordship up and dismisses him, he does not know why.

Sandy looked thoughtful, and said, musingly, one wonders had he seen somewhat that Blatchett had rather not be revealed – might not have understood the inwardness of the business at the time – but did any come questioning –

For he already had some inkling of what the groom might have seen. And that 'twas somewhat that one hoped he had not gone blab about.

Indeed, seems a young guileless fellow enough, but sure have come across fellows at races &C looking as innocent as the babe unborn that were rogues incarnate.

Sandy suggested that mayhap he should come to Offerton’s place and interrogate the fellow, under cover of finding out was there any matter of unjust dismissal and remedy – though, he added gloomily, in Blatchett’s position they are wont to turn off their servants for mere caprice and there is little one may do.

Offerton remarked that to his mind, Blatchett was a poor judge of horseflesh, and not so fine a one of men, either, did he spend so much time in the company of that detrimental Mortimer Chellow. And commenced upon a lengthy and rather confused tale of Chellow’s conduct at some card-party at the races.

So it fell out that a day or so later Sandy went out into Berkshire to Offerton’s place, and had some converse with the head groom, Stalyward, that declared that young Oxton was a fine hand with the cattle – worth two men at least – could not see the least harm in him – would not be entire astonished to learn that Blatchett was about some sly tricks, there was tales about that Chellow chap – and the lad had seen something, or refused to undertake some underhand matter –

One could place a certain amount of confidence in one that had been about racing circles these many years and risen to head groom here: had doubtless developed sound judgement!

To give some air of solemnity to the proceedings Sandy had been made free of the steward’s office, but to ameliorate the severity of the occasion had also provided a mug of ale and a snack of bread of cheese. The lad would have been up since dawn –

Very prepossessing, he came in with damp hair from which Sandy deduced that he had washed away the evidence of the morning’s toil under the pump afore this interview. Was very grateful for the ale &C, as Sandy commenced upon the more general questions –

Brought up around horses – father a groom himself – the stable at Blatchett’s hunting-box had been his first place – very quiet – His Lordship would visit occasional with friends – or sometimes by himself – was mostly a matter of tending Tipton the cob – making sure all was in order against a sudden visit –

His Lordship had not been for some while, but visited lately.

There I was, said the young man, holding Benbow’s head while His Lordship mounted, and I bethought me of the young lady, and once he was in the saddle, I ventured to hope that she had suffered no ill-effects from being bolted with on such a nasty night?

So he snorts and says nothing and rides off. Then that evening his groom Mr Axbury comes to me and hands me over my due wages and tells me to go, I am dismissed. Very fortunate I had friends here that would at least find me a nook to sleep, and they say they are in dire need of a pair of hands – but the being discharged without a character must concern Mr Stalyward.

Sandy looked at him with all the kindness he could summon up – for inwardly he felt very much what Clorinda would term John Knox look at this naïf young fellow ensconced so very close to a place, Jupp’s horse farm, frequented by Bella Beaufoyle. His very good nature was like to be disastrous.

Why, he said, that is very harsh and one must suspect there was somewhat behind but I cannot fathom what it might be. But let me advance your case to Lady Bexbury, that has interest with the Potter-Welch agency, that was in particular established to assist those that had been unjustly turned off or had other reasons for difficulty in obtaining a place.

That is above and beyond kind! Oxton exclaimed. For although everyone here is friendly, and 'tis a good place as places go, I had rather not be about racecourses, where there is a deal of low conduct even without the gambling.

It was a puzzle to think what they might do with him – so many of the establishments to which he might be recommended were those where Bella was like to be a visitor – but Sandy fancied that matters had now got to the place where he should convoke with Clorinda. And mayhap Belinda Penkarding.

So he made further reassurances that the matter would be looked into, and that they would be about finding him a more eligible situation.


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