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Updated: May 29, 2025
"You can, if you choose; but not here. This is a question of evidence." "Who's Bowker anyhow?" said Dempsey behind his hand to Quigg. "Ridin' 'round in his carriage and chokin' off free speech?" After some moments of thought the judge turned to the president of the board, and said in a measured, deliberate voice: "This signature, in my opinion, is a proper one.
"You and he, I see, are peculiarly suited to each other....My only regret is that in my blind affection I have wasted all these years and all those thousands of dollars on you." Madam Bowker affected publicly a fine scorn of money and all that thereto appertained; but privately she was a true aristocrat in her reverence and consideration for that which is the bone and blood of aristocracy.
He is too much for my nerves often." "He's your property now," Madam Bowker reminded her. "You must not disparage your own property. Always remember that your husband is your property. Then your silly nerves will soon quiet down." "We must have money," repeated Margaret. "A great deal of money." "You know I can't give you a great deal," said the old lady apologetically.
"Then I must eat it myself, I suppose, though it do seem a shame to waste such a lovely chop on Ann Angelina Trapes! But, Hermy dear, I just been down to see Mrs. Bowker, an' her little Hazel's very bad her poor little hip again, an' she's coughin' too, somethin' dreadful." "Poor little Hazel! Did she ask for me, Ann?" "Well, my dear, she did, an' Mrs.
The combination of color was indescribably pictorial, and as lurid and suggestive as an old-fashioned Orthodox sermon. As I went through the lower hall, I found Mr. Bowker assisting Helen to search the coal-bin. "Don't smile," she cried. "Punch says, 'Sometimes the least likeliest place is more likelier than the most likeliest, and sure enough, here is the hat!
"Dead, your Honor" throwing out his chest impressively, his voice swelling "dead in his grave these siven years, this Mr. Thomas Grogan; and yet this woman has the bald and impudent effrontery to" "That will do, Mr. Rowan." Police justices justices like Rowan did not count much with Judge Bowker, and then he never permitted any one to abuse a woman in his presence.
Never forget that you belong to the superior sex." "I don't feel that I do," said Margaret. "I can't help feeling women are inferior and wishing I'd been a man." "That is because you do not think," replied Madam Bowker indulgently. "Children are the center of life its purpose, its fulfillment. All normal men and women want children above everything else.
I honestly don't want to make her wretched. I need a sock-darner, a wash-counter, a pram-pusher, for a wife, as Grant would say, not a dainty piece of lace embroidery. It would soon be covered with spots and full of holes from the rough wear I'd give it." Madam Bowker laughed heartily. "You are delicious," said she. "You state the exact situation.
From the moment of the announcement of her daughter's engagement to Lucius Severence, she ceased to be Lard or Bowker and became Severence, more of a Severence than any of the veritable Severences.
Her next ambition was to be rich; without the beauty that appeals to the senses, she married herself to a rich New Englander, Henry Bowker. Her final and fiercest ambition was social power. She married her daughter to the only son and namesake of Lucius Quintus Severence.
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