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"Then don't yer call me a sneak, because if you do it'll be the worse for you." "Oh, I say, Bob," protested Dexter, as he tugged away at his oar, "don't be so disagreeable." "And now he says I'm disagreeable!" cried Bob. "Well of all the chaps as ever I see you're about the nastiest. Look here, do you want to fight? because if you do, we'll just go ashore here and have it out."
I had heard that laugh before, more moderately given, and minus the accompaniment of the rushing wind without and the ringing of the hollow arches within. It was that of Dexter Ralston, and I now detected that he and his companion were standing just within one of the embrasures, so as to be partially sheltered from the wind, and I could trace their outlines.
Dislike rough and tumble. Kiss in the dark and never tell. Saw something in me. Wonder what. Sooner have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. To aid gentleman in literary. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Didn't let her see me in profile. Still, you never know. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Beauty and the beast.
A love of fine clothes he shared with all the best of his kind, and he visited Mr Bilger the jeweller who arrested him magnificently arrayed. He wore a black coat and waistcoat, blue pantaloons, Hessian boots, and a hat 'in the extreme of the newest fashion. He was also resplendent with gold watch and eye-glass. His hair was powdered, and a fawney sparkled on his dexter fam.
"I haven't tried since." "You are a fellow! Why, if I had a chance like you have, I should be always at it." "I say, what did you say your name was?" "Bob Dimsted Bob," said the fisher, throwing in again. "I know what yours is. You come out of the workus." "Yes," said Dexter sadly, as he wondered whether he did not wish he was there now.
"I will see you in the morning," he said, "and in the meantime, account for Jessie's absence, by saying that she paid you a visit, going out imprudently, and found herself too much indisposed to return." Mrs. Loring merely inclined her head. A little while Dexter stood looking at her, embarrassment and trouble written on every feature. Then bowing coldly, he retired. WHEN Mrs.
"Yes; but you don't know how chilly it makes you feel. Mind the clothes." Bob did mind, and the next minute Dexter and the barge of dry clothes were upon the grass together. "Oh, isn't it cold?" said Dexter, with his teeth chattering. "Cold? no. Not a bit," said Bob. "Here, whatcher going to do!" "Do? Dress myself. Here, give me my shirt. Oh, don't I wish I had a towel!"
She's so good, and so faithful that I love her anyhow, but Mother does like neat guests dreadfully well! She would love you for a guest, Catherine. But there! You always are just ex-actly right, without the tiniest drawback, unless Dexter has changed you. Has it? "I feel as though I were having my second childhood.
The mournful cry came once more "Where's the story? where's the story?" The sinking spirit leaped up in Dexter again. "You wretch! you fiend!" he cried, whirling his chair around, and facing her. "The story is coming. I can tell it! I will tell it! Wine! You whimpering idiot, get me the wine. Why didn't I think of it before?
He knew now that his wife and the mother of his child had stood outside, as all women but the one must ever stand. Nor did he guess that she had known it from the first and that heart-hunger had hastened her death. Aside from a very deep-seated gratitude to her for his son, Anthony Dexter cherished no emotion for the sake of his dead wife.
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