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"Much better to drown the wretched thing than burn it," she had been saying to herself, "especially at this time of year, when fires are weak and telltale. And parchment makes such a nasty smell; Eliza might come in and suspect it. But the Scarfe is a trusty confidant." And the sooner it was done, the less the chance of disturbing poor Eliza's mind.

He won't repent he can't repent and there was never any one less like a lost sheep in the world. "After which I think I will say good-night!" A few days later, Connie, returning from a ramble with one of Lady Winifred's stray dogs along the banks of the Scarfe, found her two aunts at tea in the garden. "Sit down, my dear Connie," said Lady Marcia, with a preoccupied look.

Men had been dropping in singly, or in twos and threes: the higher officials of the province, engineers of the railway, sunburnt and in tweeds, with the frosted head of their chief smiling with slow, humorous indulgence amongst the young eager faces. Scarfe, the lover of fandangos, had already slipped out in search of some dance, no matter where, on the outskirts of the town.

"Did you call him 'Fred' and let him call you 'Oscar'?" "Yes." "Did you go to Paris with him?" "Yes." "Did you give him money?" "Yes." "Was there ever any impropriety between you?" "No." "When did you first meet Ernest Scarfe?" "In December, 1893." "Who introduced him to you?" "Taylor." "Scarfe was out of work, was he not?" "He may have been." "Did Taylor bring Scarfe to you at St. James's Place?"

As I happened to be in the lead of our party and the first to enter the trench, I was the first man searched and so had to await the examination of the others. Worn out by the events of the day and the wound I had received early in the morning from a shell fragment, I fell asleep against the wall of the trench where I sat. I was awakened by a poke in the ribs from Scarfe. "Time to shift, mate."

I lied brazenly: "Sorry, sir; I've lost mine." The fact was I had shoved it down under my puttees while lying back of the trench the previous afternoon. Scarfe said: "You can have mine, sir." He took it. "Thanks so much." He glanced at the aide again; rather sharply this time, I thought.

Mr. Wilde preferred to know nothing of these young men and their antecedents. He knew nothing about Wood; he knew nothing about Parker; he knew nothing about Scarfe, nothing about Conway, and not much about Taylor. The truth was Taylor was the procurer for Mr.

Already the Prussians were crowding round us threateningly again, with their saw-edged bayonets ready, some fixed in the rifle, others clasped short, like daggers, for such a butchering as they had had earlier in the afternoon, when I had been so nearly axed. "Might as well kill us outright as scare us to death," complained Scarfe bitterly.

Dined at home, and to the office, where late busy in setting all my businesses in order, and I did a very great and a very contenting afternoon's work. This day my aunt Wight sent my wife a new scarfe, with a compliment for the many favours she had received of her, which is the several things we have sent her.

Gallant mortal! cried my uncle Toby, caught up with enthusiasm this moment, now that all is lost, I see him galloping across me, corporal, to the left, to bring up the remains of the English horse along with him to support the right, and tear the laurel from Luxembourg's brows, if yet 'tis possible I see him with the knot of his scarfe just shot off, infusing fresh spirits into poor Galway's regiment riding along the line then wheeling about, and charging Conti at the head of it Brave, brave, by heaven! cried my uncle Toby he deserves a crown As richly, as a thief a halter; shouted Trim.