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Anyway, it turns out that Basil has his good points. For one thing he's the most entertaining listener I ever talked to. Maybe you know the kind. Never has anything to say about himself but whatever you start, that's what he wants to know about.
Basil Ransom was still there; he and Verena, with the place to themselves, were standing in the recess of a window, their backs presented to the door. If he had got up, perhaps he was going, and Olive, softly closing the door again, waited a little in the hall, ready to pass into the back part of the house if she should hear him coming out.
The rain had ceased, but a dense mist had gathered in and sent a chilly breath through the doorway where Basil stood with Nilo in his arms. Spira was following her hands clasped over her bright bodice, and her face looking ten years older than when she came in.
"And which she will continue to do," said Mrs. Herne decisively; "the mother does not wish Basil to marry my niece, though she is quite as good as they if not better." "Well," drawled Jennings, rising, "I now know why Mrs. Octagon has acted in this way. There's no more to be said." "Are there any further questions you wish to ask me? Remember I go abroad forever next week.
'If enslavement to a yellow-haired barbarian had not muddled your wits, you would long ago have seen who it was that has played you false. Basil stared at her, his passion chilled with surprise and alarm. 'Played me false! he echoed involuntarily. 'Who is it, continued Petronilla with slow scorn, 'that you have trusted blindly? To whom have you looked for guidance and protection?
B.C." But it gave the queen of coquettes a sense of security she had not enjoyed for long. While Basil still lay in prison, Count Jules sought her. "You have baffled me, my lady," he said. "Yes," was the calm reply, "I have checkmated you, count. You will extort no more money from me, nor will you threaten me again."
But if their actual fragrance is not always pleasing, and their uses are now grown obscure, I love well the names of many of them whether from ancient association or because the words themselves fall pleasantly upon the ear, as, for example, sweet marjoram and dill, anise and summer savoury, lavender and sweet basil. Coriander! Caraway! Cumin!
Already in imagination I was in my old place on the front seat of our car, beside my knight; but the first words of Sir S. snatched me off again and left me dangling in mid-air. "Sure your motor's all right again?" he inquired of Basil. I held my breath for the answer. "Yes, thanks, quite all right." "You know" and Sir S. turned to Mrs. West "we're delighted to keep you as our guests."
The deepest feeling in Ransom's bosom in relation to her was the conviction that she was made for love, as he had said to himself while he listened to her at Mrs. Burrage's. The reader may imagine whether such an impression as this made it any more agreeable to Basil to have to believe it would be indelicate in him to try to woo her.
Sleeping upon the slender branch of a mountain pine is more painful than pleasant; and all three preferred keeping awake. Morning broke at length. The first light showed that the shaggy sentinel was still at her post. She sat upon the same spot, as though she was guarding her dead offspring. The young hunters, but particularly Basil, began to grow impatient.
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