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"I? No indeed! I never felt better in my life." "But where have you been? When did you come? Why didn't you write?" were some among the countless questions thrust upon him.
But Bessie felt no want of these polite accomplishments. She had no accomplished companions to put her to shame for her deficiencies. She was fond of a book, she could write an unformed, legible hand, and add up a simple sum. The doctor, not a bad judge, called her a shrewd, reasonable little lass.
And then, "Take the pencil and write under my name, 'I forgive her!" She never changed the order of these three sentences, but she sometimes left out a word in one or other of them; never putting in another word, but always leaving a blank and going on to the next word.
The desire to write perfectly of beautiful happenings is, as the saying runs, old as the hills and as immortal.
"Eh!" queried Yorke brutally rocking "does hurt?" "If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, And all we " "No! no! no! Yorkey!" George's voice rose to a cry, "not that! . . . quit it, old man! . . . that's one of the most terrible things Kipling ever wrote terrible because it's so absolutely, utterly hopeless. . . ." "Well, then!" said Yorke slowly
I never was trained to think, and I get stunned by thoughts that strike me as being dug right out of the centre. Sometimes I'd like to write them down; but I can't write; I can only talk as I'm talking to you. If you weren't so high up, and so much cleverer than I am, and such a thinker, I'd like you to be my safety-ring, if you would.
The girl had never been told that there was such a thing as district headquarters, or that soldiers in San Francisco had anything to do with soldiers at Fort Yuma. Nor was she in the way of learning such facts, being miles away from a uniform, and even from an American. One day, when she was fuller of hope than usual, she dared to write to that ghost, Thurstane.
"Does not your own conscience accuse you, Mary?" "Mr Faithful," repeated she, very warmly, "you are not my father confessor; but do as you please write to Tom if you please, and tell him all you have seen, and anything you may think make him and make me miserable and unhappy do it, I pray.
So Elisabeth had to endure the agony which none but an artist can know the agony of being dumb when one has an angel-whispered secret to tell forth of being bound hand and foot when one has a God-sent message to write upon the wall.
Pinkerton, and I shall never cease to be grateful for your exertions to save her from misery. I owe you still another debt, which I will tell you about to-morrow, when I bring my friend to see you." "I am very glad to know that Mrs. Thayer is so happy," I said; "give my regards to her when you write. I must hurry on now, Captain, as I have an important engagement; so good-bye.
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