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Vivian Howard nodded the head he was bending over his Abishag. Bill signalled to George a swift wink. George drew a handkerchief; wiped from his face the beaded agony. Mr. Bitt dropped heavily into his seat. "Of course I'm very glad, Mr. Howard," he announced stonily. "Very glad. At the same time at the same time " He turned upon George with a note that was almost savage. "You, sir!" he cried.

The golden head and the head of brown lifted simultaneously from the paper; stared towards Bill, pacing, smoking. Tremendous possibilities flickered in George's mind; made his voice husky. "Bill," he asked, "do you believe that cat is this Abishag Vivian Howard's Abishag?" Bill nodded absently. This man's thoughts were afar revolving this situation he had named "licker."

And king Solomon answered and said unto his mother, And why dost thou ask Abishag the Shunammite for Adonijah? ask for him the kingdom also; for he is mine elder brother; even for him, and for Abiathar the priest, and for Joab the son of Zeruiah. Then king Solomon sware by the LORD, saying, God do so to me, and more also, if Adonijah have not spoken this word against his own life.

Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my lord the king a young virgin: and let her stand before the king, and let her cherish him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may get heat. So they sought for a fair damsel throughout all the coasts of Israel, and found Abishag a Shunammite, and brought her to the king.

Carteret got on his feet and walked away a few paces, continuing to heckle himself with merciless honesty and rather unprintable humour invoking even the historic name of Abishag, virgin and martyr, and generally letting himself "have it hot."

And when Solomon bid her to lay her commands upon him, because it was agreeable to his duty to grant her every thing she should ask, and complained that she did not at first begin her discourse with a firm expectation of obtaining what she desired, but had some suspicion of a denial, she entreated him to grant that his brother Adonijah might marry Abishag.

"Come on!" he cried. "Bill, if it isn't his Abishag, if there's any hitch, I'll I'll oh, Mary, don't build too highly on this, old girl!" "Shall I come, Georgie?" George hesitated. "Better not. Better not, if you don't mind. I couldn't bear to see your face if Vivian Howard says it isn't the cat."

George shifted the hand that firmly held Abishag on the seat between them; squeezed that fine creature's head to him with his arm; with his handkerchief wiped his sweating palms. "It's going to be awkward," he said "damned awkward! I see that. Oh, Bill!" He groaned. This young man was in desperate agitation. "Buck up," Bill told him. "This is a cert. Safe as houses." "All very well for you, Bill.

Vivian Howard, the famous author and dramatist, whose new novel, "Amy Martin," Daily readers need not be reminded, was to start in the Daily as a feuilleton on Monday week, had been robbed of his famous cat "Abishag the Shunamite." The whole reading public were well aware of Mr. Howard's devotion to this valuable pet. Scarcely a portrait of Mr.

Howard's novels had been translated, offered 500 pounds to the person who would return, or secure the return of, Abishag the Shunamite, and thus restore peace to the heart of England's premier novelist, whose new story, "Amy Martin," would start in the Daily on Monday week. Mr. Henry T. Bitt had achieved a mammoth splash.