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"He got a lot of dough yesterday," informed Pythagoras, "and he put half of it in the bank here." Ptolemy handed over a check which was blank except for Felix Polydore's signature. "I don't see," I weakly exclaimed when my wife had closed the kitchen door, "why she put them off on us. Why didn't she trade her brats off for antiques?" Silvia eyed the check wistfully.
Earl have placed us under so many obligations that we can never hope to repay them," Mrs. Bell said quietly. "If I do not speak more freely of what I feel, it is because I have no words for its expression." "Don't speak or think of obligations," Silvia said lightly, "and here is my card, so that if at any time I might be of service to you I hope you will not hesitate to call on me.
Silvia heals the hurt by whispering over it a charm; and the whole description is instinct with that delicate, soft sentiment of Tasso's which almost, though never quite, sinks into sentimentality. Aminta feigns to have been stung on the lip, and begs Silvia to heal the hurt. It is easy to argue that this is childish, that it mattered no whit though they kissed from now to doomsday.
Some people have children born unto them, some acquire children and others have children thrust upon them. Silvia and I are of the last named class. We have no offspring of our own, but yesterday, today, and forever we have those of our neighbor. We were born and bred in the same little home-grown city and as a small boy, even, I was Silvia's worshiper, but perforce a worshiper from afar.
"Bravo, bravo, Silvia!" exclaimed Hilda. "Do make a convert of him!"
"I tried to take it away from him and he swallowed it. The redhead teacher was awful scared, but I told her he was used to swallowing things and that you said he carried a whole department store in his insides." "Poor little Di," said Silvia; "it's the only way he has of keeping things away from you all." That night I saw to it personally that each and every Polydore was in his little bed.
You will forgive me, dear reader, if I have made you attend the funeral of Silvia ten years before her death; believe me I have no intention of performing a miracle; you may console yourself with the idea that I shall spare you that unpleasant task when poor Silvia dies. Her only daughter, the object of her adoration, was seated next to her at the supper-table.
They done one thing more that was awful. Could you stand it to hear?" turning to Silvia. "Please, Silvia," implored Rob. "Well," argued Silvia faintly. "I suppose we might as well know the worst." "You see the old gent didn't always get up to breakfast with the kids and one morning when I brought in the cakes Emmy looked up and grinned. I nearly dropped the plate.
"My bones ache as if I had been working in the vineyard all day." "You are not ill, mamma?" exclaimed Silvia, blushing with alarm. The answer was a hesitating one: "I don't see what can ail me. It wouldn't be anything, only that I am so tired without having done much." "Perhaps it's the weather, mamma," Silvia suggested.
I said, with one leg over the balustrade. "As you're here, if you would like to come in and sit down for a little I mean, I don't want to seem inhospitable." "I knew it," said I. "I knew she was, really." "Goodbye, Silvia. Thank you very, very much all the same. I've found out what I wanted to know." I slipped over the coping and set my foot in the thong.
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