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'To catch my death o' cold? I'm all right where I be. I've seen it before. But you can take her. She's no sort o' use or sense.... Climb out through the window. Didn't I tell you I'd plugged the door-cracks, you fool's daughter? The parlour window opened, and the woman flung herself into Midmore's arms, nearly knocking him down. Mr. Sidney leaned out of the window, pipe in mouth.
Midmore's house, said the unsympathetic maiden. 'O Gawd! O Gawd! I wish our 'eavenly Father 'ud forgive me my sins an' call me 'ome, the woman sobbed. 'But I won't go to 'is 'ouse! I won't. 'All right, then. Stay here. Now, if we run, Miss Sperrit whispered to Midmore, 'she'll follow us. Not too fast!
The same temperament, or it may have been a woman, made him early attach himself to the Immoderate Left of his Cause in the capacity of an experimenter in Social Relations. And since the Immoderate Left contains plenty of women anxious to help earnest inquirers with large independent incomes to arrive at evaluations of essentials, Frankwell Midmore's lot was far from contemptible.
The wild boar of Asia could not have cut down a couple more scientifically, but this little pig lacked his ancestor's nerve and fled shrieking over their bodies. 'Are you hurt, darling? was Midmore's first word, and 'No I'm only winded dear, was Miss Sperrit's, as he lifted her out of her corner, her hat over one eye and her right cheek a smear of mud.
A man who has been saddle-galled or shoulder-bruised for half the day is not at his London best of evenings; and when the bills for his amusements come in he curtails his expenses in other directions. So a cloud settled on Midmore's name. His London world talked of a hardening of heart and a tightening of purse-strings which signified disloyalty to the Cause.
Beyond that light, the brook was strangling and kicking among hedges and tree-trunks. 'What on earth will happen to the big rose-bed? was Midmore's first word. 'It generally 'as to be restocked after a flood. Ah! she raised her lantern. 'There's two garden-seats knockin' against the sun-dial. Now, that won't do the roses any good. 'This is too absurd.
About eleven o'clock next morning Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite called upon him 'for they had made appointment together' to see how he took it; but the janitor told them that Job had gone into the country, he believed. Midmore's relief when he found his story was not written across his aching temples for Mr.
At that hour Fate chose to play with him. A widowed aunt, widely separated by nature, and more widely by marriage, from all that Midmore's mother had ever been or desired to be, died and left him possessions. Mrs.
You look at 'is lease third drawer on the left in that Bombay cab'net an' next time 'e comes you ask 'im to read it. That'll choke 'im off, because 'e can't! There was nothing in Midmore's past to teach him the message and significance of a hand-written lease of the late 'eighties, but Rhoda interpreted.
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