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Updated: May 10, 2025
What's the name of the beak, sir?" "Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently. "The young shaver spoke of 'im different." "Corker, perhaps," said Acton. "That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbred greenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting." "No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."
The expression of his face was comically lachrymose, and John felt a touch of compunction at the nature of his own immediate mental attitude towards the harmless 'moon-calf. "Don't apologise!" he said, with a frank smile "I myself am not in a companionable humour. I think Miss Bourne's music has not only put something into us, but taken something out of us as well."
If a house was seated on some melancholy place, or built in some old romantic manner, or if any particular accident had happened in it, such as murder, sudden death, or the like, to be sure that house had a mark set upon it, and was afterwards esteemed the habitation of a ghost. BOURNE'S Antiquities.
Worcester posted back to Acton, lost in amazement. "Look at this, Acton!" Acton carefully read Bourne's letter, and Dick, who was watching him anxiously, saw him bite his lips with rage; for Phil's icy contempt stood out in every word of the letter. "He says you know why you are not in the eleven." Acton knew that he would have to explain something, or else Bourne would win the day yet. So he said
To say that Acton was upset by our visit and our conversation and Bourne's ultimatum would be beside the mark; he was furious, and when he had cooled down somewhat, his anger settled into a long, steady stretch of hate towards us both, but especially towards Bourne.
You're a credit to Sharpe's, Poulett; but remember that you've been poaching for Biffen's footer captain. That's something, anyhow. Don't grin, Poulett; it's bad form. Going? To Bourne's, eh? I can recommend you, though it would be no recommendation to him. You can cut, too, Grim, and clear at 9.30. See the door catches."
Dick told the other fellows plainly and without any gilding, his conversation with Acton, and they pressed him to go and see Phil personally; so Dick marched heavily to Bourne's quarters. "Sorry, Worcester, but I cannot explain anything. Not even to you. But I do hope you'll come into the eleven."
Besides that, since he could give his old chums so precious little of his time, and had perforce to head them off when they offered to bear him company on half-holidays, they called him many choice names. "I hear they sample all the public-houses between here and Westcote," said Rogers. "Look what a dissipated eye Mr. Bourne's got."
I overheard a father say to his young hopeful. "No fear!" said the frenzied Biffenite. "Bourne is a beast!" In fact, the only one who seemed to derive any pleasure from Bourne's prowess in the field was Acton himself. He used to sit near the flag-staff, and when Phil made his splendid late cut, whose applause was so generous as his? whose joy so great?
E. H. Harriman's Sultana, Morton F. Plant's Vanadis, P. W. Rouss's Winchester, Aphrodite, the O. H. Payne estate; F. G. Bourne's Alberta, and Edward Harkness's Wakiva these great yachts among other steam-driven palaces, passed into the hands of the Navy Department in one way or another, and have performed valiant service. Some of them, indeed, have ended their careers violently in service.
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