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Dellogg was approachable again, whenever that might be, every sort of question would be being asked in whispers about who they were and what was their relationship, and presently whenever they sat down anywhere the chairs all round them would empty. Mr.
It was to be a brilliant affair, said the porter. Mr. Dellogg had been a prominent inhabitant, free with his money, a supporter of anything there was to support. The porter talked of him as the taxi-driver had done, regretfully and respectfully; and Mr. Twist went to bed angrier than ever with a man who, being so valuable and so necessary, should have neglected at such a moment to go on living.
Twist was with them this time, and he would see that if the Delloggs didn't come to them they would get safely to the Delloggs. The usual telegram had been sent announcing their arrival, and the taxi-driver, who seemed to know the Dellogg house well when Mr. Twist told him where they wanted to go, apparently also thought it natural they should want to go exactly there.
Why hadn't that white-haired gasbag, Mrs. Bilton Mr. Twist's thoughts were sometimes unjust joined them sooner? Why had that shirker Dellogg died? He got his bootlaces hopelessly into knots. "I'd like to start right in getting the rooms fixed up, Mr. Twist," said the manager pleasantly. "Mrs. Hart of Boston is very " "See here," said Mr.
Poor little thing. Rotten luck. Rotten. I hate people to die now. It seems so infernally unnatural of them, when they're not in the fighting. He's only been dead a month. And poor old Dellogg was such a decent chap. She isn't going anywhere yet, or I'd bring her up to tea this afternoon. But it doesn't matter. I'll take you to her." "Shall you?" said Anna-Felicitas, again much pleased. Dellogg.
It was quite unjust, he knew. They couldn't help the death of the man Dellogg. They were the victims, from first to last, of a cruel and pursuing fate; but it is natural to turn on victims, and Mr. Twist was for an instant, out of the very depth of his helpless sympathy, impatient with the Twinklers.
Dellogg isn't " resumed Anna-Felicitas with determination, "well, that he isn't alive?" "Alive?" repeated the driver. He let his hand drop heavily on the window-sill. "If that don't beat all," he said, staring at her. "What do you come his funeral for, then?" "His funeral?" "Yes, if you don't know that he ain't?" "Ain't isn't what?" "Alive, of course. No, I mean dead.
Dellogg is " began Anna-Rose in her clear little voice that carried like a flute to all the tables round them. Mr. Twist got up quickly. "If you've finished let us go out of doors," he said; for he perceived that silence had fallen on the other tables, and attentiveness to what Anna-Rose was going to say next. "Yes. On the sands," said the twins, getting up too. On the sands, however, Mr.
He could imagine nothing more agreeable than, having handed over the twins safely to the Delloggs, staying on a week or two in this place and seeing them every day, perhaps even, as he had pictured to himself on the journey, being invited to stay with the Delloggs. Now all that was knocked on the head. He supposed the man Dellogg couldn't help being dead but he, Mr.
As their guardian he could then pay all their expenses, and faced by this legal fact they would, he hoped, be soon persuaded of the propriety of his paying whatever there was to pay. Mr. Twist was so much pleased by his idea that he was able to go to sleep after that. Even three months' school the period he gave Mrs. Dellogg for her acutest grief would do. Tide them over.
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