J. C. Snaith

Summary

J. C. Snaith The principal girl (1912)

They had their little adventures, of course, this happy pair, because Brighthelmstone is the home of so many romances. For one thing, they attracted attention when they walked abroad. Philip was sure that it was the hat from Paris; Mary was absolutely convinced that it was the coat with the astrachan collar and the spats by Grant and Cockburn. But what really impressed the floating population of Brighthelmstone was the comeliness of both; the simple pleasure they derived from the society of each other; their abounding joy in being allowed to walk about this underrated planet.
Source: Gutenberg

J. C. Snaith The principal girl (1912)

Her speaking voice, for all that it hurt her so, was clear and low and quite agreeable; and wiser men than Uncle Phil have thought that such a voice as that is the greatest charm in any young woman. Not quite so ultra-refined perhaps as that of the seventh unmarried daughter of not quite a hundred earls; not quite so much torture was inflicted upon the letter “o,” that honest vocable. Icy tones had been Adela’s that morning in the opinion of the heir to the barony; those of the new-risen star of Blackhampton were clear and unaffected and ringing with human sympathy.
Source: Gutenberg

J. C. Snaith The principal girl (1912)

Wasn’t it all rather selfish of Philip?
Has a man a right to be selfish, even when he’s staking his life’s happiness? Depends on the sort of man you are, said the Green Chartreuse. Personally, we consider, said the Green Chartreuse, you will be the “absolute it” in the fool class if you allow your people to queer your pitch for you on the score of Family. Adela is a cat, and you know it; Mary Caspar is a girl in a million, and you know that, too; you have no need to be ambitious; you will have quite as much money, and quite as much position as is good for any young fellow.
Source: Gutenberg

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