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"What d'you think? Manda left her green parasol out by the front gate and Henry's chewed the handle off of it!" "Chewed the handle off a parasol what how?" said the surprised mother. Amanda laughed. "But don't you worry about it, Mrs. Landis," she said, "for it was a rhubarb parasol." "Oh!" A merry laugh followed the announcement about the edible parasol handle and Mrs.
How often d'you think, Hilda," he called out to his wife, "her ladyship takes a bath?" "I should hardly like to say, Hugh," Mrs. Elliot tittered, "but wearing puce velvet, as she does even on the hottest August day, it somehow doesn't show." "Pepper, you have me," said Mr. Elliot. "My chess is even worse than I remembered."
If she's anchored bow and stern she'll hold, unless it comes on to blow a gale, and to-morrow mornin' at low tide maybe you can tinker her up so she'll go. "'Go? says he, like he was astonished. 'Do you mean to say you're reckonin' to save the CAR? "'Good land! I says, starin' at him. 'What else d'you s'pose?
When Parker came out he was carrying a great pile of bedclothes. "Here, what are you doing? Put 'em down. D'you hear me?" "My orders were to take them away, sir." As Laurence had said it was useless to fight against present odds. Richard shut his teeth tight. "Obey your orders," he said, but as the door was closing the craving for drink mastered his pride.
"I tell you none of these trainers ain't in it with a gentleman owner when he takes to racin'. When a man of brains takes to runnin' horses as a profesh, he's gen'rally a Jim Dandy." It was he of the wine-opening who let fall these words of wise value. "D'you mean Porter, Jim?" asked number two of the trio. "Maybe that's his name. An' he put it all over Mister Langdon this trip."
"They're gone," said Acton. "What shall we do?" "We'll find one of them, at all events," replied his companion; and returning once more to the neighbourhood of the studies, he shouted, "Thurston!" There was a faint "Hullo!" and a moment later a door opened half-way down the passage. "Well, what d'you want?" Allingford walked quickly forward. "Look here," he demanded sternly, "where have you been?
"If it turns out that your pa made some mistake or was -er -too cock-sure about the lay o' this land, what d'you think Old Man Perkins would do about it?" he inquired meaningly. "Prove his claim, and take part of our present farm away from us, of course," Ralph retorted. "But there is no mistake. The land is ours." "And if it is, would you be willing to sell "
That's a most improper proceeding in a hospital patient." "I was trying to do some translations. D'you know Spanish?" "No." "Well, you know all about San Juan de la Cruz, don't you?" "I don't indeed." "He was one of the Spanish mystics. He's one of the best poets they've ever had. I thought it would be worth while translating him into English." "May I look at your translation?"
She spoke just like the people round Blackstable. "What part of the country d'you come from?" he asked her. "I'm a Kentish woman. I come from Ferne." "I thought as much. My uncle's Vicar of Blackstable." "That's a funny thing now," she said. "I was wondering in Church just now whether you was any connection of Mr. Carey. Many's the time I've seen 'im. A cousin of mine married Mr.
Why not have social critics to comment on society entertainments or financial critics to roast unhealthy commercial enterprises and advertise safe ones? How long d'you think Wall Street would stand for that? Why don't the papers hire dry-goods experts to prowl through the department stores, publishing the cost prices of merchandise and warning the public against bargain sales? That's what we do.
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