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Maturin, you'll believe me won't you?" "Of course I believe you, Janet," Augusta Maturity replied, trying to hide her pity, her own profound concern and perplexity. "I didn't suspect it either. If I had " "You wouldn't have brought me here, you wouldn't have asked me to stay with you.
They're not married yet, you know, and, from what I hear, that fellow may prove a slippery customer. He'll not marry her unless old Dale gives her something. You'll see if he does. I'm told that he has got another string to his bow at Courcy Castle." Soon after this, Crofts took his horse and rode home, having promised the earl that he would dine with him again before long.
"My dear!" said her aunt, in serious reproof, shocked at the rapidity of the young lady's ideas. "Or, at least," added Babie, "if she won't, you'll give us blackcock lockets, Cecil. They would be lovely- you know- enamelled!" "That I will!" he cried. "And, Mother Carey, will you model me a group of the birds? That would be a jolly present!" "Better than Esther's head, eh?
At last he came back to his old sore subject, my English accent. "I guess our good American is too homely for a fine English gentleman like you," he said, "but I believe you'll as lief speak as you were taught before you're through with this city.
Why, it will 'hatch you over again, and hatch, you different, as somebody said. You'll see." He looked at her, trying hard to catch her expression in the dusk. "And if I do come back different, perhaps perhaps soom day you'll not be ashamed to be seen wi' me? Look here, Miss Laura.
"Are they really?" said Midget, interested in spite of herself. "Yes, and I'll send you a big box of them as soon as I get there. They'll keep all right, 'cause mother received a box the other day, and they were as fresh as fresh." "And you'll write to me, Glad, won't you?" said Marjorie, a little wistfully. "'Course I will! I'll write every week, and you write every week. What day do you choose?"
What's the matter? You needn't look like that as if I had done something naughty," said Griselda sharply. "But you'll tell your aunt, missie?" "Of course," said Griselda, looking up fearlessly into Dorcas's face with her bright grey eyes.
"No law up there, you know. Nobody to watch the Bedouins, so they take pot shots at every train that passes, just for the fun of it." "May be war, you know, at any minute. The French are sure to make a drive for the railway line you'll be hung up indefinitely commandeered for an ambulance train shot for the sake of argument anything at all, in fact.
'Tis good, darlin'! You'll not mind Mary Flynn callin' you darlin', though y'are postmistress, an' 'll be more than that more than that wan day or Mary Flynn's a fool. Aye, more than that y'll be, darlin', and y're eyes like purty brown topazzes and y're cheeks like roses-shure, is there anny lether for Mary Flynn, darlin'?" she hastily added as she saw the Seigneur standing in the doorway.
"You'll have to keep off the boggy meadows," he warned; "these rains will have softened all those muck-holes on the other side; they'll be bottomless pits; watch out for 'em. Good-by! If you meet Nash hurry him along. Moore is anxious to run those lines. Keep in touch with Landon, and if anybody turns up from the district office say I'll be back on Friday. Good luck." "Same to you. So long."
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