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Down I crawled, wishing that I was the heroine of a novel who would have passed firmly down the stairs and into the room, 'pale, but calm and serene. Oh! I was pale enough, I feel sure. But as to serene! my heart was flapping about just like a tin ventilator in a wind, and I was jumpy all over. You see what a coward am I. "Mrs. Chater had grown since last I saw her. Of that I am convinced.
"Do you want an action brought against you? Oh, my God, what a house this is!" "My boy! You will fall! Very well, I'll pay her." Mrs. Chater turned to Mary. "Again and yet again my son intercedes for you, miss. Oh, how you must feel!" She grabbed around her dress for her pocket; found a purse; produced coins; banged them upon the table. "There!"
Mergin and Chater. But in one matter he was wise and wakeful: he made continuous and careful inquiries about the golden dragons on a white flag, and talked to no one of his wonderful window. He came to know the flags of every king in Europe, he even dabbled in history, he made inquiries at shops that understood heraldry, but nowhere could he learn any trace of little dragons or on a field argent.
"I hate you," Angela told him, in the slow utterance of one giving completest effect to a carefully weighed sentiment. With equal impressiveness, David, seated beside her, lent his authority to the statement. "I hate you too," he joined. Mr. Bob Chater laughed a little stupidly. Mary cried: "Oh, Angela! Oh, David! How can you speak like that!" "He is perfectly abom'able," Angela said, unmoved.
They're closing up!" Bob staggered to the mirror; discovered the full horror of his marred beauty. "Curse it!" he groaned and gave an order. Mrs. Chater flew to the telephone. In the office of Mr. Samuel Hock, purveyor of meat, by appointment, to the Prince of Wales, the telephone bell sharply rang. Mr.
On 24th January 1807 Mardon and Chater went forth, after Carey had charged them from the words, "And thence sailed to Antioch from whence they had been recommended to the grace of God, which they fulfilled." Carey's eldest son Felix soon took the place of Mardon. The instructions, which bear the impress of the sacred scholar's pen, form a model still for all missionaries.
If Bob Chater at no time had aching desire for a brawl, he was at least no coward: here the events he had suffered well sufficed to whip his blood to action. He sprang to his feet, was upon them as George, sideways to him, came round the arm of the seat; lunged furiously and landed a crack upon the cheekbone that spun George staggering up the path.
Nervous and clumsy the girl struggled with it. "Miss Humfray! How slow you are! Pull it!" Mrs. Chater grabbed the turned-back wrist. A crack answered the jerk, and the glove split away in her hand. "There! Not my fault. Next time, perhaps, you will buy gloves sufficiently large. Oh, my poor heart! Now, feel. Press!" The girl bit her lip. Humiliation lumped in her throat.
The first thing they ask you for is a reference from your former situation. Think what a reference Mrs. Chater would give me!" He would not agree. He plunged along in his blundering, man fashion: "In time you could get a place where they would not ask questions or rather yes, of course this is it. Tell them frankly all that happened. Who could see you and not believe you? Tell them everything.
"Discounting the prejudice of a late employee, they have spoken well." "Was her son there with them?" "They have not told me so." "Ah!" said Mary; sat back in her chair. "Then your version is about the son?" Mary nodded. Recollection put a silly lump in her throat. Miss Ram said: "Miss Humfray, when I received that letter from Mrs. Chater, I said I would have no more to do with you.
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