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"The God as clever enough to make Mr Nevill Tyson?" said Miss

Batchelor, very softly She had felt the antagonism, and resented it

At this point Sir Peter came doith one of those tremendous platitudes

that roll conversation out flat That was his notion of the duty of a

host, to rush in and change the subject just as it was getting exciting

The old gentle topic in this way, under

the i a situation

"You'll be bored to death--I give you six months," were Miss Batchelor's

parting words, murmured aside over her shoulder

On their way horatulated Tyson

"By Jove! you've fallen on your feet, Tyson They tell me Miss Batchelor

is interested in you"

"I am not interested in Miss Batchelor Who is she?"

"She is only Miss Batchelor of Meriden Court--the richest land-owner in

Leicestershire"

"Good heavens! Why doesn't somebody marry her?"

"Miss Batchelor, they say, is hed, a little brutally

Of course everybody called on the eccentric newcomer when they saw that

the Morleys had taken him up But before they had time to ask each other

to meet him, Mr Nevill Tyson had imported his own society from Putney or

Bohemia, or some of those places

That was his first e In fact, for a man in Tyson's insecure

position, it was ht to have

married some powerful woman like Miss Batchelor, a wo of an inviolable social reputation

But ht Miss Batchelor was clever,

and he hated clever women So he married Molly Wilcox Molly Wilcox was