Sally Bishop eBook

E. Temple Thurston
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 456 pages of information about Sally Bishop.

“No, not a bit; what?”

“You’ve got a little too much on that cheek, and your lips as well; do you mind?”

“Heavens!  No!  Was that one of the million reasons?” She crossed the room to a well-lighted mirror and, by the aid of its reflection, rubbed her cheeks and lips with a handkerchief taken from the front of her dress.  “Was that why you stared at me?” she asked, turning round, looking at Mrs. Durlacher, then at that part of the handkerchief that her lips had touched.

“One of the reasons?  Oh no.  I only noticed it.  That’s all right now.  I believe you look better without it.”

“Well, I felt so fagged this evening.”

“I know; that’s wretched.  If you were a man, you’d drink; being a woman, you make up.  It’s much more respectable really.  By the way, you don’t see anything of Devenish now, do you?”

“No, nothing.  We saw him that day at Prince’s—­I hadn’t seen him for two or three months before that—­I haven’t seen him since.  I don’t think you can ever rely on a married man.  Don’t you know that line of Kipling’s?”


“In ‘Barrack Room Ballads’—­’Fuzzy Wuzzy,’ I think.”

“Nothing about a married man, surely?”

“No; but it fits him.”

  “’’E’s all ’ot sand and ginger when alive,
    An’ ‘e’s generally shammin’ when ‘e’s dead.’”

Mrs. Durlacher broke into a peal of laughter.  “What a quaint creature you are!” she said.  “Whatever made you think of that?”

“Well, he is like that—­isn’t he?  I mean, you never know the moment when his wife isn’t going to hear a rumour.  Then he shams dead, and the next time he sees you, he just manages, with an effort, to recognize you by your appearance.”

“Is that what happened to Devenish?” asked Mrs. Durlacher with amusement.

“I expect so.  I never heard that his wife knew anything; but from the way he suddenly fell in a heap, I should think it’s quite likely.  And he’s shamming still.”

“Well, let him sham.  I don’t think he’s worth anything else.”  She paused, watching the effect of her words.  “Oh, and you never told me what you thought of my brother yesterday?”

“I think he’s rather quaint.”

“Yes, isn’t he?  I’m glad you like him.”

“But why haven’t I met him before?  Don’t you ever ask him down to Apsley?  I never realized you’d got a brother, you know, till the other day you showed me that case in the paper.”

“Very few people I know do,” replied Mrs. Durlacher, whereby she created a sense of the mysterious, raised curiosity and played a hand that needed all her skill, all her ingenuity.  “I shouldn’t have told you about him, even then,” she continued, “if it hadn’t been fairly obvious to me that he was becoming a different sort of person.”

“Why, what sort of an individual has he been?”

Project Gutenberg
Sally Bishop from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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