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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Turn on belt lights," he called. "Quick!" Lights flared on. He searched quickly, swinging his light. The Planeteers were getting to their feet. His light focused on Private Bradshaw, and he gasped. Bradshaw's face was scarlet, and his skin was flecked with drops of blood. His eyes were closed and bulging horribly. Rip jumped forward, but Koa was even faster.
A "Bradshaw's Guide" of thirty-five years ago is now a rare book, but it is very interesting to glance over its pages, and in doing so it will be found that the fastest speed in all cases but one falls far short of that which obtains at present.
"Could you?" asked Jemima, for the conversation took place at Mr Bradshaw's dinner-table, where a few friends were gathered together to meet Mr Hickson; and among them was Mr Benson.
If he went now to Mr Bradshaw's without being asked, or sent for, he thought it would seem like presuming on his knowledge of the hidden disgrace of one of the family. Yet he longed to go: he knew that Mr Farquhar must be writing almost daily to Jemima, and he wanted to hear what he was doing.
"I suppose most depraved women have been innocent in their time," said Mr Bradshaw, with bitter contempt. "Oh, Mr Bradshaw! Ruth was not depraved, and you know it. You cannot have seen her have known her daily, all these years, without acknowledging that!" Mr Benson was almost breathless, awaiting Mr Bradshaw's answer. The quiet self-control which he had maintained so long, was gone now.
Only he had the air of a man who praises his neighbor without stint, with a calm consciousness that he himself is out of reach of comparison in the possessions or qualities which he is admiring in the other. Clement was right in his obscure perception of Mr. Bradshaw's feeling while he was making his phrases.
It might be part of the Divine design that he, Zachariah Coleman, should not be made better by anything. It might be part of that design, part of a fulfilment of a plan devised by the Infinite One, that he should be broken, nay, perhaps not saved. Mr. Bradshaw's doctrine that night was nothing new.
Bradshaw's displeasure, in that she, an unmarried person, had actually looked over the volume together with its possessor, not so much as blushing when she found herself observed by strangers. The remaining persons were an English family, a mother and three daughters, their name Denyer. Mrs. Denyer was florid, vivacious, and of a certain size.
As they issued forth, Miss Benson heard Mr Bradshaw's strong bass voice speaking to her brother, and winced, as she knew he would be wincing, under the broad praise, which is impertinence, however little it may be intended or esteemed as such. "Oh, yes! my wife told me yesterday about her her husband was a surgeon; my father was a surgeon too, as I think you have heard.
Is this it, Ruth?" "I think it is. I never reasoned why I felt as I did; I only knew that Mr Bradshaw's giving me a present hurt me, instead of making me glad." "Well, but there is another side of the case we have not looked at yet we must think of that, too.
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