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Updated: June 4, 2025
A moment later, as he stood tensely in the alcove, came the postmaster's cry of "One letter for Louise Martin," and the green curtain swung aside to admit her. She returned from the sanctum composedly. He waited a moment that they might not reappear together, and came out with eyes shining and heart a-beat. He had kissed her! He had kissed her! The entrance of Mrs.
We'd a-beat them into shucks in another quarter, I reckon. Darn the luck!" "We must give it up," said the Captain. "Turn her head in." Saying this, he hurried below; and, observing his excited manner, I followed him. A group of ladies stood upon the guard-way where the Captain descended over the wheel-house. The Creole was among them.
"I recollec' a tale ray mammy tol' me 'bout my gran'pa. When he took up wid my gran'mammy de white man what owned her say, 'If you want to stay wid her I'll give you a home if you'll work for me lak de Niggers do. He 'greed, 'cause he thought a heap o' his Black Woman. He say he gwine a-beat him. My gran'pappy went home dat night an' barred de door.
How do you know what the cow may know, As under the tasselled bough she lies, When earth is a-beat with the life below, When the orient mornings redden and glow, When the silent butterflies come and go, The dreamy cow with the Juno eyes? How do you know that she may not know That the meadow all over is lettered, "Love," Or hear the mystic syllable low In the grasses' growth and the waters' flow?
He looked at her again, intently and carefully at that waxen, fallen face, her helpless hands clasped across her breast with a string of beads interwoven within them; and even as he looked distrust once more surged within him, It was impossible, he told himself in spite of what he had seen that day in spite of that score of leaping figures and the infectious roar that more than twenty times in that short journey had set his pulses a-beat. . . . He passed her, quickening his steps a little; then faced about and watched.
'None of those little girls is her own little girl, thought Anthea. The little black-clad London child pulled at Anthea's sleeve. 'Look, she said, 'that one there she's precious like mother; mother's 'air was somethink lovely, when she 'ad time to comb it out. Mother wouldn't never a-beat me if she'd lived 'ere I don't suppose there's e'er a public nearer than Epping, do you, Miss?
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