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"Imagine if every life, at death, was worked back, and where it went wrong, where it made its calamity, and the date, put on the tombstone. Eh? What a record! Who'd dare walk through a churchyard?" Sabre's objection was, "Of course no one would ever know. Suppose your idea's correct, who's to say what a man's purpose in life was, let alone whether he'd fulfilled it?
How very admirable of you! When was this? After that big meeting in the Corn exchange the other day?" "Don't tell them when it was," said Sabre's mind. He said, "No, rather before that. I was rejected on medical grounds." "Well, well!" said Mr. Fortune. "Well, well!" He gave the suggestion of being unable to array his thoughts against this surprising turn of the day. "Most creditable.
"Sabre's Modern History", shunned by the public schools in accordance with their principle of ignoring all history mellowed by fewer than three thousand years, had been received enthusiastically by the lesser schools wherein was then dawning the daring idea of presenting to the rising generation some glimmering conception of the constitutional and sociological facts into which it was arising.
Some apprehension of the odd affair that it was was characteristic of Mark Sabre's habit of mind, increasingly with the years, with Mabel. Penny Green "picturesque, quaint if ever a place was", in garrulous Mr. Hapgood's words lies in a shallow depression, in shape like a narrow meat dish. It runs east and west, and slightly tilted from north to south.
Hard. Hard. Bear up, Twyning. Soldier's death.... Finest death.... Died for his country.... Fine boy.... Soldier's death.... Bad luck. Bad luck, Twyning...." Twyning, inarticulate, pushed up his hand and felt for Sabre's hand and clutched it and squeezed it convulsively. Sabre said again, "There, there, Twyning. Hard. Hard.
It was to have been one in which the war should be shut out and forgotten in the delights of mental twistings and slowly puffed pipes; it proved to be one in which "this frightful war!" was groaned out of Sabre's spirit in emotion most terrible to him.
Old Sabre's not done anything outrageous like that. Real thing I seemed to notice about him when I bumped into him yesterday was that he didn't look very cheery. Looked to me rather as though he'd lost something and was wondering where it was. Ha!
Oh, rare and splendid spirit! Fortune's darling thrice worthy of her dowry! Nona had written of it in ringing words. She flushed in beautiful ardour of the enthusiasm she joined with Sabre's at his opening words of their meeting; but she ended with a sad little laugh. "And then!" she said. "What do you mean, Nona, 'And then'?" She took a letter from her bag.
But how to deal with this man he never knew. He always felt he was about fourteen when Mr. Boom Bagshaw thus addressed him. He therefore said, "Great!" and Mabel murmured, "How splendid!" But Sabre's thought was and it remained with him throughout the meal, acutely illustrated by the impressive monologues which Mr.
And the end was quicker than nothing. Twyning pulls Humpo's coat and points at Sabre's hat, soft hat, on the ledge before him. Humpo nods, delighted. "'And did she carry out her intention, sir? Did she clean your straw hat for you? "Nods. "'You don't appear to be wearing it? "Shakes. "'Pray, where, then, is this straw hat to clean which you obtained the oxalic acid? Is it at your house?
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