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Updated: June 16, 2025
Tom was on the lounge by the window, under the flowering plants, when Babcock entered. She was apparently asleep. Across her forehead, covering the temples, two narrow bandages bound up her wound. At Babcock's step she opened her eyes, her bruised, discolored face breaking into a smile. Then, noting his evident anxiety, she threw the shawl from her shoulders and sat up. "No, don't look so.
An alternative procedure consists in avulsing segments of the vein by means of Babcock's stylet, which consists of a flexible steel rod, 30 inches in length, with acorn-shaped terminals.
Amanda's old blond face, with its folds of yellow-gray hair over the ears and sections of the softly-wrinkled, pinky cheeks, was bent over some needle-work. So was Mrs. Babcock's, darkly dim with age, as if the hearth-fires of her life had always smoked, with a loose flabbiness about the jaw-bones, which seemed to make more evident the firm structure underneath.
"My name's Patsy, sir," looking straight up into Babcock's eyes, the goat nibbling at his thin hand. "And who are you looking for?" "I come down with mother's dinner, sir. She's here working on the dock. There she is now." "I thought ye were niver comin' wid that dinner, darlint," came a woman's voice. "What kept ye? Stumpy was tired, was he? Well, niver mind."
But I have wished to. Some day I shall. Just now I have too many domestic concerns to " She did not finish, for Babcock's heavy tread and whistle resounded in the hall and at the next moment he was calling "Selma!" She felt annoyed at being interrupted, but she divined that it would never do to show it.
But nevertheless in his secret soul he detested Europe, and he felt an irritating need to protest against Newman's gross intellectual hospitality. Mr. Babcock's moral malaise, I am afraid, lay deeper than where any definition of mine can reach it.
I've been cooped up all the spring house-cleanin', an' now I'm goin' to git out. I dun'no' when I've been anywhere. I ain't been into Mandy's sence Christmas that I know of I ain't been in to set down, anyway; an' I've been meanin' to run in an' see you all winter, Mis' Field." All the trace of confusion now left in Mrs. Babcock's manner was a weak volubility.
Crane was something of a hustler himself one of those busy Americans who opens his daily life with an office-key and closes it with a letter for the late mail. He was a restless, wiry, black-eyed little man, never still for a moment, and perpetually in chase of another eluding dollar, which half the time he caught. Then, laying his hand on Babcock's arm: "And she's square as a brick, too.
"Whereinell were you, Hughie?" he inquired. "Hunted all over for you. Had a sousin' good time. Went to Babcock's had champagne then to see Babesh in th' Woods. Ham knows one of the Babesh had supper with four of 'em. Nice Babesh!" "For heaven's sake don't step on me again!" I cried. "Sh'poloshize, old man. But y'know I'm William Shakespheare. C'n do what I damplease."
Doctor Babcock's words suggest that there is perhaps nothing in all the divine teachings that is less understood and less accepted than the assertion of Saint Paul, "We glory in tribulation also."
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