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"And from Waterloo the train goes to Southampton, and from Southampton the boat leaves for Havre. There's nothing funny, believe me." I said no more. The porter was dismissed. Jaffery drew the letter from his pocket. "On the other hand she was in London yesterday afternoon in this district, for here is the 5:45 postmark." "Oh, I posted that letter," said Mrs. Jardine. "You?" cried Jaffery.
An idea prevailed that the basketmaker had spent much of his life in foreign countries, favoured partly by a sobriety of habits which is not altogether national, partly by something in his appearance, which, without being above his lowly calling, did not seem quite in keeping with it, outlandish in short, but principally by the fact that he had received since his arrival two letters with a foreign postmark.
"Prudence, my girl," went on the farm-wife, as soon as Alice's back was turned, "just open that other," pointing to a blue envelope. "The postmark reads Ainsley. I take it, it's from young Robb Chillingwood. Maybe it's to say as he'll be along d'rectly." Prudence picked the last letter up. "It is hot in here, mother; I wonder you can stand it." Her mother looked up over her spectacles.
Thee needn't worry." The two men stood still a moment in the moonlight. "Good-by, Mr. Embody," said Jerry. He did not put out his hand. Enoch hesitated a little. "Farewell," he said, and his voice was not quite natural. The next morning, when Enoch opened the outside letter-box to postmark the mail that had been dropped into it after the store was closed the night before, he found but one letter.
Purchasing a stamp, he humped over a desk in the common room and with infinite pains he inked the stamp in imitation of a postmark and addressed the letter to "Lady Istra Nash, Mouse Castle, Suffolk." Some one sat down at the desk opposite him, and he jealously carried the task upstairs to his room. He rang for pen and ink as regally as though he had never sat at the wrong end of a buzzer.
She picked it up indifferently; but when she saw that it bore the handwriting of one of her Calcutta cousins and the Darjeeling postmark she tore it open eagerly and ran her eye rapidly down the pages. She came to the lines: "I have seen the man you asked me about. He is always with a girl called Benson, rather a pretty little thing. She is popular with all the men; but Mr.
And then one day there came to him a letter, sent on to him from the publisher of his one book. It was signed "Sylvia," nothing else, and bore no address. Matthew picked up the envelope. The postmark was "London, S.E." It was a childish letter. A prosperous, well-fed genius, familiar with such, might have smiled at it. To Matthew in his despair it brought healing.
He took up the paper wrapper from the waste basket and examined it with renewed interest. John Markham, Esquire, West th Street, New York City. With a stamp of the French Republic and a postmark of What were the postmarks? Paris. Of course. And the other? VAL-E ? Valence? Valence was in the South of France on the Rhone. He had never been there. No. That wouldn't do. VAL-L-E Vallcy!
Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter. 'By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? His letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night. Nannie examined the postmark. 'I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out unless that beast of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean? Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders.
"You must write and thank her," he said to Julia, who, knowing that this was proper, assented without a word, and when on the morning after Christmas Miss McDonald opened with trembling hands the envelope bearing the Cuylerville postmark, she felt a keen pang of disappointment in finding only a few lines from Julia expressive of her own and little Daisy's thanks for the beautiful Christmas box, "which made our little girl so happy."
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