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After Molly's departure, Jeanette stooped to pick up what Molly had left. She saw her own name, "Jeanette Barclay," and her address written on an envelope. She picked it up. It was dated: "Written December 28," and she saw that the package was filled with letters in envelopes similarly addressed in Neal Ward's handwriting. She dropped the letter on her dressing-table and began to undo her hair.
Ward's journal supplies this first sketch of the brotherhood, who realised, more than probably any in Protestant, Romanist, or Greek hagiology, the life of the apostolic community in Jerusalem: "January 18, 1800. This week we have adopted a set of rules for the government of the family.
Did you ever hear of a sailor refusing to man the pumps on a sinking ship because the vessel was not his personal property?" "Bah!" growled Jake Vodell. "Your profession of loyalty to your country amuses me. Your country! It is McIver's country Adam Ward's country, I tell you. It is my little band of live, aggressive heroes who are the loyal ones.
Sunday is the one day when they can stay at home with safety, and leave their husbands to skulk in the river holes if they please. December 21, 1899. "Puffing Billy," of Bulwan, distinguished himself this morning by sending one shot into Colonel Ward's house and the next into the general's just beyond. In Colonel Ward's was a live Christmas turkey, over which a sentry is posted day and night.
Now, therefore, he nodded his approval of Squint Eye's proposal, feeling that whatever was in Ward's mind would be more likely to work out to Skipper Simms' interests than some unadvised act of Skipper Simms himself. "Supposin'," continued Ward, "that we let two o' your men an' two o' ourn under Mr.
I am glad to see that Professor Bosanquet, in his fine Gifford Lectures, has the courage to expose the limitations of the 'historical method, now so popular. He protests against Professor Ward's dictum that 'the actual is wholly historical, as a view little better than naïve realism. History, he says, is a hybrid form of experience, incapable of any considerable degree of being or trueness.
Brown," and he refreshes me during the journey by quotations from my books and lectures. "Never seen Ward?" he said. "Oh, no." "Ward says he likes little girls, but he likes large girls just as well. Haw, haw, haw! I should like to see the d fool!" He referred to me. He even woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me one of Ward's jokes. I lecture at Big Creek.
Behind his clump of shrubbery, Adam Ward, crouching like some stealthy creature of the jungle, watched and listened. From the shelter of the arbor, Adam Ward's daughter looked upon the scene with white-faced interest. "Gee," said Bobby, "some place, I'd say!" "Ain't it pretty?" murmured little Maggie. "Just like them places where the fairies live."
But when life's big, bitter problems confront one, little things are usually forgotten. They came back to everyday realities, though the spell which Ward's impulsive unburdening had woven still wrapped them in that close companionship of complete understanding. They played checkers for an hour or so and then went to bed.
In his best manner the chauffeur announced, "Miss Ward's compliments, Sir and Miss, an' she has ordered me to place her automobile at yer disposal if ye would be so minded as to go for a bit of a pleasure ride." "Oh!" gulped little Maggie. "Aw, what are yer givin' us!" said Bobby. The man's voice changed, but his manner was unaltered.
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