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The masked man whirled to meet her. "You should not " he began. "It makes no difference," Kate Gilbert said. "This man knows me, or he would not have been set to spying on me. Sidney Prale knows that I am associated with his enemies, since I was talking to him to-day. It is not necessary for me to mask my face!" "It really was not necessary for you to come," said the masked man.
Again Sidney shook his head. "It ain't no use, Mr. Potash," Sidney declared. "Pop ain't got no confidence in me. If I was a greenhorn fresh from the old country he might let me start in and do something, but " At the word greenhorn Abe Potash leaned forward and struck the table with his open hand. "By jiminy, Sidney!" he cried, "I know the very job for you.
And Sidney the little tad; how could he explain to her this wretchedness how soften her disappointment? How keep the tears from out her eyes how keep alive her confidence in him her faith in his resources? Bitter, fierce, ominous, his wrath loomed up in his heart. His fists gripped tight together, his teeth clenched.
Before I had finished, the sunset which had lighted one end of Landegode became sunrise at the other, and the fading Alps burned anew with the flames of morning. The northern summer soon teaches one fashionable habits of life. Like the man whose windows Sidney Smith darkened, and who slept all day because he thought it was night, you keep awake all night because you forget that it is not day.
To the office till noon, when word brought me that my Lord Sandwich was come; so I presently rose, and there I found my Lords Sandwich, Peterborough, and Sir Charles Harbord; and presently after them comes my Lord Hichingbroke, Mr. Sidney, and Sir William Godolphin.
He was pausing by a crossing, irresolute whether to repair at once to the home assigned to Sidney, or to seek some shelter in town for that night, when three men who were on the opposite side of the way suddenly caught sight of him. "There he is there he is! Stop, sir! stop!" Philip heard these words, looked up, and recognised the voice and the person of Mr.
Either from disgust of life, or from attachment to Captain Wright, he survived him only twelve hours, during which he wrote the shocking details I have given you, and sent them to three of the members of the foreign diplomatic corps, with a prayer to have them forwarded to Sir Sidney Smith or to Mr.
Sidney Woodiwiss, who at that period had the largest kennel of Dachshunds in England. "Ptero," as he was called, was a big, light red dog, with wonderful fore-quarters and great muscular development. He also possessed what is called a "punishing jaw" and rather short ears, and looked a thorough "business" dog. This dog became the favourite sire of his day and the fashionable colour.
"And this evening," she continued, "we can't even sit down with you around the parlor lamp. Can you amuse yourself alone, dear, or with Sidney, while your uncle and I go over some pressing matters together?" Surely I could. "Auntie, was the information bad news?" "It wasn't good, my dear; I may tell you about it to-morrow." "Hadn't I better go back to father at once?"
They are undeniably different, and the later figure is wholly free from Grandisonian elegance and elaboration. But is he much more truly a gentleman? Is he our Sidney, our Chevalier Bayard, our Admirable Crichton? Is that refined consideration and gentle deference, which is the flower of courtesy, an old-fashioned folly?
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