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Updated: June 25, 2025
Henry Brunton, who knows you, I think. 'Oh! yes," he said, 'he knows me very well; and, if I mistake not, this letter is about you, for he was talking to me about a nephew the other day. Isn't that just like Uncle Henry? he never said anything about that to us, but he is so good and kind, we are always finding out some of his generous actions, about which he never speaks. While Mr.
He was wedged against the wall, close to the great eight-day clock, with its round moon-like smiling face forming a ludicrous contrast to his long, sallow, grave countenance, which was pretty much at the same level above the sanded floor. Before him sat Molly Brunton and one of her sisters, their heads close together in too deep talk to attend to the progress of the game.
'I beg your pardon, sir, said Paul, in a cold insolence which made him hot to think of a thousand times later, 'have you been drinking? 'Well, I guess, said Mr. Brunton, and, leaning back in his deck-chair, drew a great volume of smoke into his lungs, expelled it in a cloud, and laughed; 'after a three years' drought, the man who is not game to drink deserves to go dry.
In the course of the afternoon, however, he felt himself more easy in deferring his visit to Haytersbank till the next evening. Charley Kinraid entered the shop, accompanied by Molly Brunton and her sisters; and though they all went towards Hester's side of the shop, and Philip and Coulson had many people to attend to, yet Hepburn's sharpened ears caught much of what the young women were saying.
Brunton was one of mingled feelings of pain and mortification.
Take the average native and ask him what he knows of Marcus Clarke, of James Brunton Stevens, of Harpur, Kendal, or the original of Browning's Waring. He will have no response for you, but he will reel off for you the names of the best bowler, the best bat, the champion forward, the cunningest of half-backs.
The Philadelphia veteran gazes back to the golden era of the old Chestnut Street theatre, the epoch of tie-wigs and shoe-buckles, the illustrious times of Wood and Warren, when Fennell, Cooke, Cooper, Wallack, and J.B. Booth were shining names in tragedy, and Jefferson and William Twaits were great comedians, and the beautiful Anne Brunton was the queen of the stage.
All hearts were full of thankfulness, and though there were some painful subjects discussed, yet the joyful ones far more than counterbalanced them. Mr. Brunton found out, in the course of the evening, that he had something very important to do, and probably Mrs.
But it ended only so far as Williams was concerned. A day or two afterwards Mr. Brunton was passing the office, and he called in to say "How d'ye do?" to Mr. Compton. In the course of conversation he asked how George was getting on, and whether he continued to give satisfaction. "Yes," said Mr.
She became so disturbed with all these thoughts and feelings that she hardly knew what she was saying, and assented or dissented to speeches without there being either any reason or truth in her words. Mrs. Brunton had arranged to remain with Sylvia while the horse rested, and had no compunction about the length of her visit.
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