Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
Divorce Court or somebody of the kind, so that she might be tied to Spenworth and Cheniston have no heir. Comment. . . What is the phrase? Comment is superfluous! But, if Arthur or Will were steward of Cheniston, they would give a better account of their stewardship than my brother-in-law is likely to do. . . I have lost the thread. . . Ah, yes!
“Satan rebuking sin, Spenworth,” I suggested, “though I have no idea what charge you are bringing against my boy.”
“You can have a good time in this world without being a cad,” he said. “At least I hope I can. Apparently your precious Will can’t.”
“Have a good time”! There is a phrase to put you on your guard!
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you. But I do know that we shan’t do any good by continuing this discussion.”
“Not so fast,” said Spenworth, as I walked to the bell. “You asked me to second that little beast at the club. I did. I went there the other day and was told that some fellow with a name like Apple-pie-bed had told Will that, if he ever dared shew his nose inside the door again, he’d be kicked into the street. Well, as it’s our misfortune to share a common
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