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"As plucky a thing as ever I see. If I 'adn't ha' been 'andy with that there line you'd both ha' been drownded." "Give my love to everybody," said Blundell, faintly. "Good-bye, Venia. Good-bye, Mr. Turnbull." "Where's that barrel?" demanded the stout fisher-man, crisply. "Going to be all night with it? Now, two of you " Mr.
"After a time you can open your eyes," went on his instructor; "then, if I were you, I should say, 'Good-bye, Venia, and close 'em again. Work it up affecting, and send messages to your aunts." "It sounds all right," said Blundell. "It is all right," said Mr. Turnbull. "That's just the bare idea I've given you. It's for you to improve upon it. You've got two days to think about it." Mr.
They need only bring her up before the court, and in good sooth she would not hold her tongue within her teeth, but that all men should marvel at her confession; that such a court as that was a laughing-stock to her, and that she spat, salva venia, upon the whole brotherhood, et cet. Upon hearing this I once more felt a strong hope, and rose to go to old Lizzie.
Turnbull, longingly; "always did, from a child." The two young men looked at each other; then they looked at Venia; the sergeant assumed an expression of careless ease, while John Blundell sat his chair like a human limpet. Mr. Turnbull almost groaned as he remembered his tenacity. "The garden's looking very nice," he said, with a pathetic glance round. "Beautiful," assented the sergeant.
It had the greater effect, as it was in diametrical opposition to the style of Mrs. Granby's conversation; who, in discussions with her husband, or her intimate friends, was peculiarly and habitually attentive to politeness. "Ella biasmandol sempre, e dispregiando Se gli venia piu sempre inimicando."
Turnbull eyed him indignantly, and then, sitting in a very upright position, slowly filled his pipe, and declining a proffered match rose and took one from the mantel-piece. "I was doing the best I could for you," he said, staring hard at the ingrate. "I was trying to make Venia see what a careful husband you would make.
Turnbull's. To Venia he related strange adventures by sea and land, and on subjects of which he was sure the farmer knew nothing he was a perfect mine of information. He began to talk in low tones to Venia, and the heart of Mr. Blundell sank within him as he noted her interest. Their voices fell to a gentle murmur, and the sergeant's sleek, well-brushed head bent closer to that of his listener.
Nobody paid any attention to him; even Venia, seeing that he was safe, was on her knees by the side of the unconscious Blundell. "He he's shamming," bawled the neglected Mr. Turnbull. "Shame!" said somebody, without even looking round. "He pushed me in," repeated Mr. Turnbull. "He pushed me in." "Oh, father," said Venia, with a scandalised glance at him, "how can you?"
He became more serious. "You, Georg you could build one of those models?" Georg did not answer. "You could, of course," Tarrano insisted. "My spy, Ahla you remember her, the Lady Elza's maid for so long? She is here in Venia; she tells me of your knowledge and skill with your father's apparatus. So you see, I realize I have two to guard the model itself, and you, who know its secret."
Turnbull sniffed, and took a turn up and down the room; then he closed the door and came toward his friend again. "I dare say you're surprised at me being so anxious to get rid of Venia," he said, slowly, "but the fact is I'm thinking of marrying again myself." "You!" said the startled Mr. Blundell. "Yes, me," said the other, somewhat sharply. "But she won't marry so long as Venia is at home.
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