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Osbourne, Lloyd, 1868-1947

"Love, the Fiddler"

Mary Queen of Scots, Marie Antoinette
and all those, you know--they must have been like that. I--I could
understand a man dying for Miss Latimer!"
"Oh, she's all right, my aunt!" said Quintan. "She was a
tremendous beauty once, and even now she's what I'd call a
devilish handsome woman. And the grand manner, it isn't everybody
that likes it, but I do. It's a little old-fashioned nowadays,
but, by Jove, it still tells."
"I wonder that such a splendid woman should have remained
unmarried," said Raymond. He stuck an instant on the word
unmarried. It seemed almost common to apply to such a princess.
"She had an early love affair that turned out badly," said
Quintan. "I don't know what went wrong, but anyway it didn't work.
Then, when my father died, she came to live with us and help bring
us up--you see there are two more of us in the family--and I am
told she refused some good matches just on account of us kids. It
makes me feel guilty sometimes to think of it."
"Why guilty?" asked Raymond.
"Because none of us were worth it, old chap," said Quintan.
"I'm sure she never thought so," observed Raymond.
"My aunt's rather an unusual woman," said Quintan. "She has
voluntarily played second fiddle all her life; and, between you
and me, you know, my mother's a bit of a tyrant, and not always
easy to get along with--so it wasn't so simple a game as it looks."
Raymond was shocked at this way of putting the matter.
"You mean she sacrificed the best years of her life for you," he
said stiffly.


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