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Down-country, it is quite pleasant to be thirsty, for it makes a drink taste so nice; but desert thirst or "perishing", as it is called is caused by the drying up of the moisture of the body till the organs inside actually cease to work, and the blood clogs in the arteries because it is not liquid enough. It was such terrible thirst that Sax and Vaughan were experiencing.
Then I took Swain's letter from my pocket. "If you are sincere," I said, "you can easily prove it. I have a letter here from Swain. He gave it to me to-day, and I promised to give it to Miss Vaughan to-night." Without a word, he crossed to the bell and rang it. The maid answered. "Mr. Lester has a letter which you will give to your mistress," he said. "And you will wait for an answer," I added.
As he walked down the steps of the club towards a brougham which was waiting for him, the man who had tried in vain to interest him in the Midlothian Election turned to his nearest neighbour, and said: "Vaughan is really the most extraordinary fellow I know. There is nothing on earth that interests him in the faintest degree.
Bits of clothing, tins, pieces of decaying food, and all sorts of dirt were strewn around the camp and gave out such an unpleasant smell that the boys turned away in disgust. "What's the matter?" asked Peter. "How horribly dirty he is," said Vaughan. "Aren't some of them clean?" "Oh yes," replied Peter. "Most boys who work on stations are made to use soap.
Freda wondered how the really clever and agreeable Colonel Vaughan could live with so dull a companion. Having got through luncheon and the afternoon somehow, thanks to the children, the dinner-hour arrived, and therewith the colonel. Freda always felt reserved with him, and his studied kindness and politeness to her when she had met him occasionally in London, irritated her.
Ministering angels, he felt convinced, do not rub red pepper and sulfuric acid into the wounds of suffering mortals. Then there was the case of Mr. Vaughan, a squire in the neighborhood, at whose board all the aristocracy of Caermaen had feasted for years. Mr. Vaughan had a first-rate cook, and his cellar was rare, and he was never so happy as when he shared his good things with his friends.
She wrote half a page in feverish haste, telling him how happy she was to know that he had safely returned, read it over twice, flushed with anger at her silly confusion and tore it into tiny bits. She tried again, but afraid to trust herself, spread John's note out and used it for a model, "MY DEAR MR. VAUGHAN: "Certainly, as soon as you can call.
I enclose a letter to my father give it to him at a suitable moment but, after all, he's sure to approve of a daughter-in-law with such a dowry as Miss Merrifield is likely to have. "Yours affly., "Lawrence Vaughan." I gave him back the letter without a word.
"My dear Rickman, you should have come to me. I hope to goodness Vaughan won't tempt you into any more Saturnalia." "After all what's wrong with them?" Jewdwine leaned back, keenly alive to these stirrings of dissent; he withdrew, as it were, his protecting presence a foot or two farther. He spoke slowly and with emphasis. "Excess," said he; "too much of everything.
When Esther Vaughan came to the dwelling of the painter, she was radiant with a health which had triumphed over sorrow and long watching, but the seeds of disease now fastened upon her frame, and she sunk under its influence, growing daily feebler. The almost distracted husband employed the best physicians in the city, and under their efforts Esther, for a while, seemed to revive.
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