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He'd tell you he'd been lonely all day, and would you, if you hadn't done so already, kindly come and dine with him? He spoke French with a South Carolina accent, in those days, but an archangel's voice could not then have sounded more dulcet in your ears than his. Presently, over your cigarettes, you found yourself telling him just how things were with you.

"Ah my poor friend," smiled Gabriel, much arrested, "no wonder you've an eloquence, an accent!" "It's a pity I have them in the wrong place. I'm expected to have them in the House of Commons." "You will when you make your farewell speech there to announce that you chuck it up. And may I venture to ask who's to be your wife?" the visitor pursued. "Mrs.

But how should you have liked it if anybody had tried to interfere between you and Mr Fyne at the time when your understanding with each other could still have been described in vague terms?" She had a genuine movement of astonished indignation. It is with the accent of perfect sincerity that she cried out at me: "But it isn't at all the same thing? How can you!"

The light helm was open and showed a young face. The stranger moved wearily as if from a long journey. "Good even to you, sister," said the voice, a musical voice with the broad accent of Lorraine. "Help me to get rid of this weariful harness." Catherine's annoyance was forgotten in amazement. Before she knew what she did her fingers were helping the bold youth to disarm.

"Oh, I pray you," he broke in, "cease from ceremony and call me Marcus!" "Captain Marcus," she repeated, dwelling a little on the unfamiliar name, "I beg that you will forgive me for disturbing you at so unseasonable an hour." "Certainly I forgive you, Lady Miriam," he replied, also dwelling on her name and copying her accent in a fashion that made the grim-faced Nehushta smile.

He leaned from his seat and spoke to her in a gentle voice, with an accent unmistakably southern with a soft slurring of the final g and an almost imperceptible r too subtle to be pronounced a dialect but still decided enough to place the man below the Mason and Dixon line. "I believe I am going your way and I shall be very glad to take you to your destination," he said, saluting her.

He preached from the top of a packing case in front of the tent. The audience was very numerous, standing in close order to the distance of twenty-five or thirty yards under a large gum tree. The preacher spoke with a German accent, but his meaning was plain.

Especially noteworthy to Saxon was her speech. Good English it was, better than that to which Saxon was accustomed. Yet the woman was not American. On the other hand, she had no perceptible accent. Rather were her words touched by a foreignness so elusive that Saxon could not analyze nor place it. "Uh, huh," Billy said, when she had told him that evening of the day's event. "So SHE'S Mrs. Higgins?

And when walking one evening through the shadows, as they spoke about the destiny we can trace in our lives, about life and its loneliness, the conversation verged on the personal, and she said, with a little accent of regret, but not reproachfully: "But, Ned, you could not live with anyone, at least not always. I think you would sooner not live with anyone."

He was clerk to a toothbrush-maker in London, but it seems he made a little too free with a portion of the brush money: he accordingly brushed off to our celebrated Irish metropolis, ycleped Dublin, where, owing to a tolerably good manner, a smooth English accent, and a tremendous stock of assurance, he insinuated himself into several respectable families as a man of some importance.