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Updated: June 22, 2025
He came down again with his lips hard set, knocking each step sharply with his walking-stick. 'I've got it, he said, and named a southern suburb. 'Have you seen Mr. Bowles? 'No; he's out of town, was the reply. 'Saw his partner. They walked side by side for a short way, then Mr. Lott stopped. 'Do you know my idea? It's a little after eleven.
He threw himself down beside his sister, talking to her in low tones. Father Bowles took up the local paper. Presently Augustina broke out with another wringing of the hands. "Don't put it on me, my dear Alan! I tell you Laura has always done exactly what she liked since she was a baby." Mr. Helbeck rose.
The eager, joyous watchers saw him greet Selim and his fluttering wife; they saw Selim fall upon his knees, and they felt the tears rushing to their own eyes. "Hurray!" shouted little Mr. Saunders in his excitement. Bowles and the three clerks joined him in the exhibition.
KENELM did not return home till dusk, and just as he was sitting down to his solitary meal there was a ring at the bell, and Mrs. Jones ushered in Mr. Thomas Bowles. Though that gentleman had never written to announce the day of his arrival, he was not the less welcome. "Only," said Kenelm, "if you preserve the appetite I have lost, I fear you will find meagre fare to-day. Sit down, man."
"The first thing that made me hate him was that he insulted Father, who is a very quiet, timid man, and threatened I don't know what if Father did not make me keep company with him. Make me indeed! But Mr. Bowles is a dangerous, bad-hearted, violent man, and don't laugh at me, sir, but I dreamed one night he was murdering me.
However, I wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the way they had always had them. If I had only known! "After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It was about nine o'clock.
"I've a-heered that style of talk many times afore," Master Tugwell answered, solidly; "and all I can say is that I should have punched his head. And you deserve the same thing, Charley Bowles, unless you've got more than that to tell us." "So I might, Cappen, and I won't deny you there.
"They are going back to the hay now; but after that task is over, let me walk home with you, and show me Will's cottage and Mr. Bowles's shop or forge." "But you'll not say anything to Mr. Bowles. He would n't mind your being a gentleman, as I now see you are, sir; and he's dangerous, oh, so dangerous! and so strong."
The same poem is also said to have been the inspirer of Cowley, who found a copy of it accidentally lying on the window of his mother's apartment; and reading and admiring it, he became, as he relates, irrecoverably a poet. Coleridge speaks of the great influence which the poems of Bowles had in forming his own mind.
Under the blue-grey shadow of the Didcot Bowles bungalow, with beech trees and pussy willows fringing the banks of the river Sippe which runs, or ran before it was dammed, down past old Caesar Earwhacker's bicycle shed, three miles from the village of Sagrada, Conn., to the West and eight miles from Roosefelt under the hill to the North leaving the South free for a Black Rising and the East for the Civil War; there in the seventeenth cottage, with green shutters, below the bridge with the pine cones occasionally tap-tapping against the pantry window owing to a strange combination of circumstances Rupert Plinge's elder sister first saw the light of day.
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