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Fred appeared to muse regretfully. "It looks kind of empty now, though," he said, "with only Mr. and Mrs. Yocum and their three married daughters, and eight or nine children on the front porch!" "You wait till I get you where they can't see us!" Ramsey warned him, fiercely. "You can't do it!" said Fred, manifesting triumph.
Therewith, Ramsey coughed as long as he could cough, and when he felt that no more should be done in this way, he wiped his face again an act of necessity and quaveringly began: "Gentlemen and ladies, or ladies and gentlemen, in making the refutation of my opponent, I feel that I feel that hardly anything more ought to be said."
Viney interposed hastily. "Name Evadna Ramsey." In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle chilled by their lack of enthusiasm. She went back to her butter-making in dignified silence. The squaws blinked at her stolidly. Always they were inclined toward suspicion of strangers, and perhaps to a measure of jealousy as well.
W.J. Ramsey, will be glad to receive orders for the supply of any Freethought literature".
Meetings had been held, in which the name of our celebrated townsman, the Honorable Josiah Saunders, had been on every tongue. The Ramsey family obtained scant recognition for past merits, but a becoming silence had been maintained as to their present status.
Having begun within only the last few hours to regard haberdashery as of vital importance, and believing his father to be possessed of the experience and authority lacking in himself, Ramsey had come to get him to settle a question which had been upsetting him badly, in his own room, since breakfast.
Ramsey town, Ramsey town, smiling by the sea, Here's a health to my true love, wheresoe'er she be. When the steamer had passed into darkness, Martin said: "I don't want to hurt you again, Mary, but before I go there's something I want to know. . . . If you cannot divorce your husband, and if . . . if you cannot come to me what . . . what is left to us?"
Sir Coutts Lindsay; Captain Sir G. N. Brooke Middelton; Sir Edmund Prideaux; Sir George Ramsey; Sir John S. Richardson; Sir George S. Robinson; Sir John S. Robinson; Sir J. A. Stewart; Sir W. D. Stewart; Sir John Tysser Tyrrell; Sir C. F. Lascelles Wraxall; Hon A. Duncombe, M. P.; Colonel, Right Hon. G. C. W. Forester, M. P.; Right Hon. J. Whiteside, M. P.; Hon.
You don't think I'm askin' you to go and hit Dora, do you? I mean: Aren't you ever goin' to talk to her about it and tell her what's what?" "Oh, you go on to bed!" "No, I'm in earnest," Fred urged. "Honestly, aren't you ever goin' to?" "How could I do anything like that?" Ramsey demanded explosively. "I never see her to speak to, that is.
When I go out to mingle with the down-trodden and oppressed I take the 'L'; a surface car would be even more appropriate, but they take forever, and I compromise on the 'L, but you never did have any sense of dramatic fitness." "Might I ask why this sudden interest in the militant laboring ladies?" said Ramsey, drawing up his chair before the fire, and lighting a cigarette.
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