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The sand was cold, but he meant to strike the shortest line across the bay and in places the mud was soft. He knew one can pull one's naked foot loose where one's boots would stick; moreover, Carrie would like the waders dry. Dick began to think about Carrie as he set out across the flats.
Goodness knows we have enough trouble with our telephone even with Carrie to supply discretion for the whole town. Party lines and rubber ears are the source of all our woe. You know what a party line is, of course. It's a line on which you can have a party and gab merrily back and forth for forty minutes, while some other subscriber is wildly dancing with impatience.
They could hear him rummaging in his room, where Phoebe had lately unpacked some boxes forwarded from London. He had never so far touched brush or crayon during his stay at the cottage. Presently he returned with a canvas and palette. 'Don't go! he said, peremptorily, to Carrie, raising his hand. 'Stand as you were before.
"I cannot really tell you, Miss Lewis." "Oh, it does sound fine to hear you Miss Lewising me. My name is Carrie." "I prefer to call you Miss Lewis." "Highty! tighty! we are haughty. Well, the person who pays for Elma is our Aunt Charlotte a certain Mrs. Steward, wife of the Reverend John Steward, rector of St. Bartholomew's, Buckinghamshire.
Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for her meeting with Hurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, which was soon made, and hastened down the stairs. At the corner she passed Drouet, but they did not see each other. The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished to turn into his house.
The gang, of which the illustrious Dick Barker had formed one, had wisely disappeared, never to return. But one day, when Carrie, in her nurse's dress, was walking along Oxford Street, in the company of Max, to whom, with Mr.
I annually get 10 pounds rise, and I thought it might be 15 pounds or even 20 pounds; but 100 pounds surpasses all belief. Carrie and I both rejoiced over our good fortune. Lupin came home in the evening in the utmost good spirits. I sent Sarah quietly round to the grocer's for a bottle of champagne, the same as we had before, "Jackson Freres."
Aside, however, from all this, there was some gratification in knowing that she was an object of envy to Susie Graham, and Anna Thorn, and Carrie Bell, either of whom would gladly have taken her place as bride-elect of an M.C., while proud old Captain Markham's frequent mention of "my nephew in Congress, ahem!" and Mrs. Dr.
It was the only supper-room that I have been in that was not over-crowded; in fact we were the only people there, everybody being so busy dancing. I assisted Carrie and her newly-formed acquaintance, who said her name was Lupkin, to some champagne; also myself, and handed the bottle to Mr. Padge to do likewise, saying: "You must look after yourself."
Caroline had turned away and was staring rather moodily out of the window. Then she felt a hand on her arm. "Carrie, it wasn't young Mr. Wilson you were with, was it?" Mrs. Creddle said in a low voice. In the involuntary start which followed the words she had her answer; letting her hand drop, she turned an agitated face towards Caroline. "Then you weren't after no good on Thursday night.
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