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Updated: June 27, 2025
The telegraph was a recent invention ... electricity was a plaything, and electrical engineering unknown. Nothing will point this contrast better, perhaps, than the mere fact that the Michigan Central, which had only reached Ann Arbor a year or so before, was running one train a day between Detroit and Dexter.
She already disliked John Jr., and now, flying into a violent passion, she drew off her shoes, and hurling them at the young gentleman's head fled away, away, she knew not, cared not whither, so that she got out of sight and hearing. Coming at last to the arbor bridge across the brook in the garden, she paused for breath, and throwing herself upon a seat, burst into a flood of tears.
He had been kind to me all my poor gray life: should I not go to him now? He was still in the arbor, and I sat down by his side quietly: I knew that the words would come in time. They came: what a flood! English was not enough for him. He poured forth his love in the rich-voweled Spanish tongue also: it has sounded doubly sweet to me ever since. "Have you felt the wool of the beaver?
Then they laughed the kind lady, the little girl, and even his mother; but tears rose to his eyes with shame; he struggled and kicked, so that the lady had to let him glide down from her lap, and his mother said, reproachfully, "You are naughty, Paul." But he went behind the arbor and cried, until the little girl came to him and said: "Oh dear, you must not cry.
In her despair she raced over the greensward and plunged into the Wistaria arbor to stand face to face with Clem! Polly was too far gone in distress to say anything. Clem jerked up her head from the table, and raised a defiant pair of cheeks, wet and miserable. "Oh, dear, dear!" was all Polly could get out. But she stumbled in and put her arms around her neck, and down went the two heads together.
On the fifth, Jacks and I, entering the brush arbor for our supper, saw the Mexican youth, instead of a divinity in a spotless waist and a navy-blue skirt, taking in the dollars through the barbed-wire wicket. We rushed into the kitchen, meeting Pa Hinkle coming out with two cups of hot coffee in his hands. "Where's Ileen?" we asked, in recitative. Pa Hinkle was a kindly man.
There, under a grape arbor, their chairs drawn close up to the little fountain, were Rios and Escobar, talking quietly. Both men rose as they appeared, offering chairs. Both were all that was courteous and yet it needed no guessing to understand that their courtesy was but like so much thin silken sheathing over steel; they were affable only because of a command. And that command, Zoraida's.
With a hasty "Farewell, my boy," the Phoenix plunged headlong toward the window and tripped over the sill. There was a resounding crash outside as the bird landed on the rose arbor, a brief but furious thrashing and muttering, and then the receding flurry of wings. "He stuck his head in the window and said pssssst! at me!" David cried. "A big dark shape in the window!"
We go around Marne, and, returning, dine at Créteil. How cool the evening in the dusky arbor, where pipes glow through the darkness, and moths singe their wings in the flame of the omelette au kirsch.
There is a little arbor in the grounds connected with our place of meeting, and sometimes they have gone there for their readings. Some of The Teacups have listened outside once in a while, for the Tutor reads well, and his clear voice must be heard in the more emphatic passages, whether one is expressly listening or not.
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