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Bijah Bixby of Clovelly screwed up into a greeting. The storekeeper had met Mr. Bixby several times since that first memorable meeting, and on each occasion, as now, his hand had made an involuntary movement to his watch pocket. "Hain't seed you for some time, Will," remarked Mr. Bixby; "goin' over to the exercises? We'll move along that way," and he thrust his hand under Mr. Wetherell's elbow.
This was the so-called "Clovelly Street," and surely a more extraordinary thing in the way of a street does not exist in the known world.
Suddenly a gust of fresh wind caught Sally's hat, and off it flew, a wide-winged pink bird, over the old, old sea-wall of Clovelly, down among the rocks of the rough beach, tumbling and jumping from one gray stone to another, and getting so far away that, in the soft violet twilight, it seemed as lost as any ship of the Spanish Armada wrecked long ago on this wild Devonshire coast.
These dreams grew, till they were broken by a hand placed on my shoulder, and I saw that one of the passengers, Clovelly, an English novelist, had dropped out from the promenade to talk with me. He saw my mood, however, and said quietly: "Give me a light for my cigar, will you? Then, astride this stool, I'll help you to make inventory of the rest of them.
I don't see why I should he made a convenience for Anne Ford," I argued in my selfish way. "I think I shall write her not to come." Sally laughed cheerfully. "She won't bother us, Cousin Mary. It would be too bad to refuse her, wouldn't it? She can't spoil Clovelly it's been here too long. Anne is rather overpowering," Sally went on, a bit wistfully.
If you could see the way those eyes look at me, and the smile that breaks over his face as if the sun had come out suddenly! But alas! the sun has gone under now, for he went this morning, and it's not clear if he's coming back or not. They say his yacht is near Bideford, where his home is, and Clovelly is not far from that, is it?" I stopped and looked at Sally, listening, on the floor.
Clovelly use me in a novel not 'A Sweet Apocalypse' as a placid lover of fancy bazaars and Dorcas societies, instead of a very practical person, who has seen life without the romantic eye, and knows as well the working of a buccaneering craft through consular papers and magisterial trials, of course as of a colonial Government House.
Falchion's coolness; and the bookmaker, with his usual impetuosity, offered to take bets at four to one that we should all be detained to give evidence in the matter. Clovelly was silent. He occasionally adjusted his glasses, and looked at Mrs. Falchion as if he had suddenly come to a full stop in his opinions regarding her.
She travelled and studied in Northern Italy and Switzerland, and from these regions, as well as from Northern Germany, took her subjects. She has exhibited pictures at various exhibitions, and among her best works should be mentioned: "The Beach at Clovelly in Devonshire," "From the Bernese Oberland," "The Riemenstalden Valley," etc. <b>BOOTT, ELIZABETH.</b> Born in Cambridge.
Many a time I have longed for Clovelly's tongue. Unfortunately for me, I learned some of his methods without his art; and of this I am occasionally reminded at this day. A man like Clovelly is dangerous as a rival when he is not in earnest; when he IS in earnest, it becomes a lonely time for the other man unless the girl is perverse.
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