United States or Kiribati ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Early the next morning he was seated opposite to Robert Audley in the first-class carriage of an express, whirling through the pretty open country toward Portsmouth. They landed at Ventnor under the burning heat of the midday sun. As the two young men came from the steamer, the people on the pier stared at George's white face and untrimmed beard. "What are we to do, George?" Robert Audley asked.
And he proceeded: "I'm quite an old friend of his; have you known him long?" "Oh! no. How long, Phyllis, since we met him at Guardy's? About a month. But he's so unaffected quite at home with us. A nice fellow." Mr. Ventnor murmured: "Very different from his father, isn't he?" "Is he? We don't know his father; he's a shipowner, I think." Mr.
His brief life, for he died at thirty-eight, was a much disquieted one; he travelled about in search of health, for he was early threatened with consumption; for a short time he was a curate in the English Church, but drifted away from that. He lived for a time at Falmouth, and afterwards at Ventnor. He must have been a man of extraordinary charm, and with quite unequalled powers of conversation.
Archie remembered afterwards that he had presence of mind enough to get on his feet when they all sang "God Save the King," but it really seemed a dream that Ventnor was shaking hands with him and saying, "I t'ank you, me; I t'ank you. You save me great awkwardness." And then, before he knew it, he had promised to go to the hotel the next day and play for Ventnor.
It's an odious way to put it, but since you won't help me, one of them is Mrs. Dale. One of them is ? Ventnor. That it is usual that technically, I mean, the letter belongs to its writer Mrs. Such letters as these? Ventnor. Such letters especially Mrs. Dale. But you couldn't have written them if I hadn't been willing to read them. Surely there's more of myself in them than of you. Ventnor.
The strange stars within her eyes began to glitter forth as they had when she had summoned the Smiting Thing. Unheeding, Ventnor thrust out a hand, caught her roughly by one bare, lovely shoulder. "Give her back to me, I say!" he cried. "Give her back to me!" The woman's eyes grew awful. Out of the distended pupils the strange stars blazed; upon her face was something of the goddess outraged.
How could that unfortunate otherwise endure to hear of what, under the protection of Lady Ventnor, was after all so possible. Meanwhile, since irritation sometimes relieved her, the betrothed of Mr. Mudge found herself indebted to that admirer for amounts of it perfectly proportioned to her fidelity.
He sought forgetfulness in a species of mental intoxication, and countenanced his daughter's love idyll with such apparent approval that Lord Ventnor wondered whether Sir Arthur were not suffering from senile decay. The explanation of the shipowner's position was painfully simple.
It contained only these words: "Should Mrs. George Talboys really have survived the date of her supposed death, as recorded in the public prints, and upon the tombstone in Ventnor churchyard, and should she exist in the person of the lady suspected and accused by the writer of this, there can be no great difficulty in finding some one able and willing to identify her. Mrs.
He never comes near us; he always goes to some wretched little lodging or place in the town there always; never so much as looks at Ventnor, unless sometimes he may stop for a minute at the door." "He said he would come here to-night," said Ellen. "Amazing condescending of him! However, he isn't like anybody else; I suppose we must not judge him by common rules. How is Mr. Humphreys, Ellen?"
Word Of The Day