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"And I," scoffed Horace, "think the dice about equal between her favour and his talent. However, I wish you luck, and shall look for a crop of songs on Caesar and Carthage and the Cimbrians." With a smile of mutual understanding the friends pledged each other in one last draught of Chian, as Horace rose to take his leave. "How lately have you heard from Virgil?"

In the meantime, I called you over to take a ride in this projector it's a darb. I'd like to shoot for the Fenachrone system first, but I don't quite dare to." "Don't dare to? You?" scoffed Margaret. "How come?" "Cancel the 'dare' change it to 'prefer not to. Why?

I don't know where the preciousness comes in, but it's a thing of great value." "How did you get hold of it?" "Well, I suppose if you want to be told flatly, I scoffed it. You see, it was in charge of a passenger boy, who brought it aboard the M'poso at Matadi. He landed across by canoe from Vivi, and wanted steamer passage down to Boma by the M'poso.

Very many places then of those books having been explained, I now blamed my despair, in believing that no answer could be given to such as hated and scoffed at the Law and the Prophets.

It was rather a contemptible amusement, and Giovanni had never indulged in it very long. He liked Gouache, and, if anything, pitied him for his hopeless passion. Corona treated the Zouave in her grand, quiet way, which had an air of protection with it, and Giovanni would have scoffed at the thought that she cared for the man.

In due time he bought his brother out; he became very fond of newspaper life, its constant excitements and its endless variety; and six weeks before he sold his paper he would have scoffed at a prophecy of his return to Europe for the resumption of any artistic purpose whatever.

"The Signorina Emilia," Marietta promptly informed him. "Really and truly?" questioned he. "Ang," affirmed Marietta, with the national jerk of the head; "the Signorina Emilia Manfredi the daughter of the Duca." "Oh ? Then the Duca was married before?" concluded Peter, with simplicity. "Che-e-e!" scoffed Marietta, on her highest note. "Married? He?"

Don't tell me it's fish I've seen you reading, with a line out. You're no fisherman." He hesitated. "No," he admitted. "I'll be frank, Miss Carberry. I did not come to fish." "What brought you?" "Love," he said, in a low tone. "I don't expect you to believe me, but it's the honest truth." "Love!" Tish scoffed. "Perhaps I'd better tell you the story," he said. "It's long and and rather sad."

"She's got such an awful crush on Pretty Sweet that she wants to do everything he does." "That dude!" scoffed Bobby. "He and Lil make a good pair," said Jess. "Wait a minute!" cried Dorothy Lockwood. "Where are the boys going to camp this year, Laura?" "On the shore of Lake Dunkirk, somewhere."

He had no word for it, for "love" was a term he thought should be confined to story-books, a word to be suspicious of as sounding affected, a word to be scoffed at. But of this relationship he had a vague understanding.