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Updated: June 20, 2025
Though literature lacks a yearly exhibition, such as is possessed by music and painting, they made it a subject for gossip, and denounced H. G. Wells as a 'bounder. 'I never read him, Mr. Selwyn, said the obscure-royalist person. 'My cousin the Duchess of Atwater met him, and says well, really, she says he's quite impossible.
Shirley that Walter was going to Marlboro that day without coming back to Atwater. Sara knew that he must change trains at Junction Falls and she went there to meet him.
Whipple's his Grace o' Chartersea's man and, you'll forgive me, sir Whipple owns his Grace is prodigious ugly, an' killed young Mr. Atwater unfair, some think. Whipple says he would give notice had he not promised the old duke " "Drat Whipple!" I cried. "Yes, sir. To be sure, sir. His Grace was in a bloody rage when he found hisself in a fruit bin at Covent Carding.
Atwater himself was not at present in the house; he had closed and locked it the day before, giving the servants a week's vacation and telling them not to return till he sent for them; and he had then gone out of town to look over a hominy-mill he thought of buying. And yet, as the wake went on, there was a light in the house, and under that light sat Noble Dill.
All who make a study of foods and their value owe a great debt to W. O. Atwater and Chas. D. Wood, who have worked so long and faithfully to increase our knowledge regarding foods. As we consider the various groups of foods, directions are given for the best way of cooking, but no fancy cooking is considered. Those who wish fancy, indigestible dishes should consult the popular cook books.
Atwater moved a heavy pistol holster around under his loose top-coat, as the droschky in front of them halted. He sprang lightly out and walked to where the two other men were busied in an earnest colloquy. McNerney, pistol in hand, was gloomily gazing at the turrets of the gray house. "He may escape us," fiercely said the man who had traveled from New York, eager to clasp the cold steel on "Mr.
"It is a 'Bleak House," murmured Atwater, gazing out of his carriage at the dreary crags of the Katzen Gebirge towering up, overhanging the neglected demesne. The young doctor leaned over and then whispered a few words in the ear of the apparently invalid woman, who was now trembling like a leaf. "Remember, Leah," he sternly said, "your boy's life hangs on your faith now."
"Mean ole reptile!" said Florence, alluding to Mrs. Silver; then she added serenely, "Well, grandpa don't get home till five o'clock, and it's only about a quarter of two now. Aunt Julia, what are you waitin' around here for?" "I told you; I'm going walking." "I mean: Who with?" Miss Atwater permitted herself a light moan. "With Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgely, Florence."
The fierce expression passed away, and Miss Porter was about to speak when Anna Lawrie sent for Rosamond, who excused herself and left the room, thinking that, after all, she should like her old enemy of Atwater Seminary very much.
"It's the minister that married Atwater!" the rumor ran round among the troops. "What's his name, Frank?" "His name's Egglestone," said Frank, his heart swelling with anxiety to speak with him.
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