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If these people have done nothing more, they'll think they have at least given an example of their resourcefulness and succeeded in throwing another scare into Warrington. But there's one thing I'd like to be able to tell Mr. Chief, however. He can't throw any scare into me, if that's his game."
"Would you, a clergyman, have George break the Commandments, and commit murder, John?" asks Theo, aghast. "I am a soldier's son, sister," says the young divine, drily. "Besides, Mr. Warrington has committed no murder at all. We must soon be hearing from Canada, father. The great question of the supremacy of the two races must be tried there ere long!"
He was very thankful that he had escaped the great danger, to which Warrington said Amen heartily: that he had no great fault wherewith to reproach himself in regard of his behavior to her, but that if they parted, as they must, he would be glad to say a God bless her, and to hope that she would remember him kindly.
Look at Lord Castlewood yonder, passing the box. Did you ever hear a fellow curse and swear so at losing five or six pieces? She must be a jade indeed, if she long give her favours to such a niggardly canaille as that!" "We don't consider our family canaille, sir," says Mr. Warrington, "and my Lord Castlewood is one of them." "I forgot. I forgot, and ask your pardon!
And then he dived into the coffee-room, and she heard him say, "For God's sake, hurry the women up; we shall never be off," and Albert Fussell reply, "Not I; I've done my share," and Colonel Fussell opine that the ladies were getting themselves up to kill. Then Mrs. Warrington herself, leading the quiet child; the two Anglo-Indian ladies were always last.
This must be a secret between us all at least if we can keep it, now that it is in possession of that villain. Blanche's father is not dead. He has come to life again. The marriage between Clavering and the Begum is no marriage." "And Blanche, I suppose, is her grandfather's heir," said Warrington. "Perhaps: but the child of what a father!
Two smaller vessels of war have also become prizes to the enemy, but by a superiority of force which sufficiently vindicates the reputation of their commanders, whilst two others, one commanded by Captain Warrington, the other by Captain Blakely, have captured British ships of the same class with a gallantry and good conduct which entitle them and their companions to a just share in the praise of their country.
It has done humming, and staggered and tumbled over, and expired in its usual tipsy manner, long ere Lady Warrington has finished her sermon. "Were you listening to me, my child?" she asks, laying her hand on her darling's head. "Yes, mother," says he, with the whipcord in his mouth, and proceeding to wind up his sportive engine.
Warrington in high spirits goes up to the ladies, recapitulates the news of Barnes's lecture, recites "How doth the little busy bee," and gives a quasi-satirical comment upon that well-known poem, which bewilders Mrs.
"'It used not always to be Sir and Colonel Warrington, between me and your Excellency, I said. "He said, calmly, 'The times are altered. "'Et nos mutamur in illis, says I. 'Times and people are both changed. "'You had some business with me? he asked. "'Am I speaking to the Commander-in-Chief or to my old friend? I asked. "He looked at me gravely. 'Well, to both, sir, he said.
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