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And then suddenly the wall of the room parted like a curtain; to her ears came a cry of violins, dominated and accentuated by a blare of brass. Mrs. Manhattan was at her elbow. Behind her was Jones; beneath was a woman, her face turned to hers. She caught the motion of Mrs. Manhattan's fan.
Kiss your hand to golden Diana, huntress of Manhattan's winds! Say ahoy to old Farragut! And on gray days have a look for me at the new Sorollas in the Museum! Luck, Sir Chaps!" "Good crops and a generous mail, O Doge!" Jack rode fast, in the gladness of a hope this side of the pass and in the face of shadows on the other side which he did not attempt to define.
At one there was a luncheon at which she was expected, and in the evening there was a dinner at Mrs. Manhattan's. Her husband, she knew, had gone to his office hours ago and would not return until late. It had occurred to her before that he worked harder than his clerks; even Arnswald seemed to have more leisure than he.
Best, one thinks, it is seen in a winter dusk, when the panes of Manhattan's mountains are still blazing against a crystal blue-green sky, and the last flush of an orange sunset lingers in the west.
I've only been here a month. But I'm ready to begin; and the members of Willie Manhattan's Sunday School class, each of whom has volunteered to contribute a portion of cuticle toward this rehabilitation, may as well send their photos to the Evening Daily.
Jones, who had not accorded the slightest attention to Maule, was discoursing in an animated fashion with Miss Bolten. On the stage in a canvas forest a man stood, open-mouthed, raising and lowering his right arm at regular intervals; and next to her Eden caught the motion of Mrs. Manhattan's fan. "No," she heard Jones say, "I have every reason to doubt that Shakspere was the author of Hamlet.
One of the Manhattan's fifteen-inch guns had been disabled; and the slow firing of those unwieldy weapons, with the imperfect mechanical appliances then used for loading them, prevented her doing the injury that might have been expected.
The silence that ensued bore with it all the weight of a mother's love, hope, and fear for her sons. We said good-bye and rode to the city. "I mean, I have to lead my own life," I thought, and focused on my parents' shortcomings to offset pangs of guilt. Manhattan's ivy-league citadel of the intellect seemed an unlikely spot for people to be led beyond thought.
Manhattan's and say that Mr. Usselex and myself are unavoidably prevented from dining with her to-night. That will do." And this order delivered, she resumed her former seat. Down the street she marked advancing dusk. The sun had sunk in cataracts of champagne. Westward the sky was like the apotheosis in Faust, green-barred and crimson, with background of oscillant yellow.
For-years "the walking sachems of Teller's Point" held nightly councils here, the ghosts of departed Indians, whose last resting place on this Point was disturbed by the white man's plough and spade, but their clay has long since been burned into bricks and their shades have scattered in all directions; some of them no doubt looking down on us to-day from Manhattan's lofty skyscrapers.
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