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Updated: June 19, 2025
"It is scarce an ennobling life that of a manhunter," said Mr. Buxton. "They have broken your little cupboard, I fear." said Mary again. And so step by step a plan was built up. It had been maturing in Mr. Buxton's mind gradually after he had learnt the ladies might sup with him; and little by little he conveyed it to them.
Hayne, and Buxton's blundering, bull-headed abuse of authority that had capped the fatal climax? It was some time before his wife could get him to speak at all.
O'Connell stood firm, argued strongly against the proposed compromise, refused to accept it, and actually pressed Buxton's amendment to a division.
They, however, continued to live in the old farm till Mr. Buxton's grandfather built the house in Combehurst of which I am speaking, and then he felt rather ashamed of what he had done; it seemed like stepping out of his position. He and his wife always sat in the best kitchen; and it was only after his son's marriage that the entertaining rooms were furnished.
Martha saw them. Her naming of the old servant familiarly melted him. 'You will not bear to hear praise or thanks. 'If I deserved them. I should like you to call on Dr. Buxton; he will tell you more than we can. He drove with me the first day, after I had sent you the local doctor's report. I had it from the messenger, his assistant. Weyburn knew Dr. Buxton's address.
All the house told of wealth wealth which had accumulated for generations, and which was shown in a sort of comfortable, grand, unostentatious way. Mr. Buxton's ancestors had been yeomen; but, two or three generations back, they might, if ambitious, have taken their place as country gentry, so much had the value of their property increased, and so great had been the amount of their savings.
When every one had gone, there was a little gathering in Mrs. Buxton's dressing-room. Husband, son and niece, all came to give her their opinions on the day and the visitors. "Good Mrs. Browne is a little tiresome," said Mr. Buxton, yawning. "Living in that moorland hole, I suppose. However, I think she has enjoyed her day; and we'll ask her down now and then, for Browne's sake. Poor Browne!
Buxton's stories about their only bringing him in seven-pence; and there's Newbridge, that's certainly thirteen hundred where had I got to, Maggie?" "Dear mamma, do go and lie down for a little; you look quite flushed," said Maggie, softly. Was this the manner to view her betrothal with such a man as Frank?
Buxton's fancy called up an echo to Maggie's voice a pleading with her pleading a sad tone of regret, distinct yet blending with her speech, and a falling, dying sound, as her voice died away in miserable suspense. It might be that, formed as she was by Mrs.
Jack walked rapidly through the city, and, free from the presence of Baumann and his vile insinuations, began to cool rapidly and survey the situation with a steadier eye. "This needs talking over," he said to himself. "Here's a big new development." He hailed a cab and was driven to Lincoln's Inn. He found Mr. Buxton's sitting-room littered with the baggage they had brought home, and Mr.
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