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But I don't know. After you've travelled around, and come back, things look so kind of little to you. I don't know kind of " he floundered about at a loss for expression. Then tried again: "Now, take Hatton's place, f'r example. I always used to think it was a regular palace, but, gosh, you ought to see places where I was asked in San Francisco and around there.
It seems funny you being right there all this time and I've traveled from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Everybody treats me swell. You ought to seen some of those California houses. They make Hatton's place look like a dump."
Perhaps in Harry Hatton's case expectations had been a little bettered by realities. At least in a great measure he had realized the things he had so passionately desired when he resigned his share in the mill and gave life up to love, music, and painting. He certainly possessed one of those wonderful West Riding voices, whose power and sweetness leaves an abiding echo in memory.
How was it that the door to Hatton's hall was closed and locked, when Hatton told him it was always open? Why was it that the light in that lower hall was extinguished, and by whom was it done? Had he not gone thither almost immediately after recovering from the surprise of his encounter on the veranda, and found the hospital attendant grumblingly relighting it?
They evinced no curiosity about this disheveled creature who had flung herself in upon their decent solitude. Tessie stared at the fire. She looked up at Old Man Hatton's face and opened her lips. She looked down and shut them again. Then she flashed a quick look at Angie, to see if she could detect there some suspicion, some disdain. None.
He knew how much Old Man Hatton's chauffeur knocked down on gas and repairs; he knew just how much the Tillotsons had gone into debt for their twin-six, and why Emil Sauter drove to Oshkosh so often on business, and who supplied the flowers for Mrs. Gurnee's electric. Chug didn't encourage gossip in his garage. Whenever possible he put his foot down on its ugly head in a vain attempt to crush it.
And he had learned all of Alixe Delavigne's lessons now, save to acquire the patience to wait. But a growing album of newspaper clippings was daily augmented by Frank Hatton's artfully disseminated items regarding "Prince Djiddin of Thibet," the first visitor of rank from that land of shadows.
I was in a passion myself, when I heard of their proposal downright impudence, I call it." "Nay, mother. They offered good money for what they asked. There was no impudence in that. It was just business." "Naylors have no good money, not they. The kind they do have would blacken and burn Hatton's hands to touch.
After you've traveled around, and come back, things look so kind of little to you. I don't know kind of " He floundered about, at a loss for expression. Then tried again: "Now, take Hatton's place, for example. I always used to think it was a regular palace, but, gosh, you ought to see places where I was asked to in San Francisco and around there.
For several days after Hatton's sudden departure Lieutenant McLean was worse. High fever had set in, and Dr. Weeks hardly knew how to account for it. Mrs.
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