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Updated: May 19, 2025
During the afternoon service, Mr Benson became aware that the large Bradshaw pew was no longer unoccupied. In a dark corner Mr Bradshaw's white head was to be seen, bowed down low in prayer.
It came upon him with fearful distinctness that he was alone that he could never hope for sympathy from his wife as long as he lived. Mr. Bradshaw's words that evening recurred to him. God's purpose in choosing to smite Jephthah in that way was partly intelligible, and, after all, Jephthah was elected to redeem his country too.
Exeter, Worcester, Lincoln, why they are just names of towns, you can find them all in Bradshaw." "Well, at any rate Bradshaw's got nothing to do with it," I replied. "These colleges are hundreds of years old, and Bradshaw's a chicken compared with them." "What dreadful slang. Fancy calling Bradshaw a chicken!" she exclaimed. "Besides, you have a college called Keble, and my father knew Dr.
"Did you think to bring my pocket-book along with you?" "No," said Mr. Wright, sharply; "I didn't." "Tt-tt," said the old man, with a gesture of annoyance. "Well, lend me a couple of pounds, then, or else run back and fetch my pocket-book," he added, with a sly grin. Mr. Wright's face worked with impotent fury. "What what do you want it for?" he gasped. Mrs. Bradshaw's "Well!
Bradshaw's Railway Guide contains few gleams of psychological comedy, yet it is not read aloud uproariously on winter evenings. If detective stories are read with more exuberance than railway guides, it is certainly because they are more artistic. Many good books have fortunately been popular; many bad books, still more fortunately, have been unpopular.
Miss Bradshaw stole an uneasy glance at his somewhat sallow features, and became thoughtful. "It's no good having diamonds and motor-cars and that sort of thing unless you have somebody to share them with," pursued Mr. Wright. Miss Bradshaw's eyes sparkled, and at that moment the shop-bell tinkled and a lively whistle sounded. She rose and went into the shop, and Mr.
But she was struck by the strange paleness of Ruth's face, now that the light fell upon it. "Stay up here, dear Mrs Denbigh! We'll tell papa you are tired, and are gone to bed." Another time Ruth would have dreaded Mr Bradshaw's displeasure; for it was an understood thing that no one was to be ill or tired in his household without leave asked, and cause given and assigned.
Bradshaw's, "George is the only relation I've got. Him and me are quite alone, and I can tell you I was glad to find him." Mrs. Bradshaw sighed. "It's a pity you are so far apart," she said. "It's not for long," said Mr. Kemp. "I'm just going back for about a year to wind up things out there, and then I'm coming back to leave my old bones over here.
Bradshaw's lessons had not been thrown away on his attentive listener. She opened every door in the room, "by your lave," as she said. She looked all over the walls to see if there was any old stovepipe hole or other avenue to eye or ear. Then she went, in her excess of caution, to the window. She saw nothing noteworthy except Mr.
They consisted in Ruth's futile endeavours to obtain some employment, however humble; in Leonard's fluctuations of spirits and health; in Sally's increasing deafness; in the final and unmendable wearing-out of the parlour carpet, which there was no spare money to replace, and so they cheerfully supplied its want by a large hearth-rug that Ruth made out of ends of list; and, what was more a subject of unceasing regret to Mr Benson than all, the defection of some of the members of his congregation, who followed Mr Bradshaw's lead.
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