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With Miss Coppinger, he felt, regretfully, that five shillings could in no way be brought to bear upon her problem, and with an effort he withdrew his mind from a new hinge that he thought of fitting to a garden-gate, and applied it to Larry. "How old is the boy now? Sixteen last October? He doesn't look as much you'll see he'll outgrow all that nonsense of Nationalism!
On his demesne, so green with young leaves, so gay with spring flowers! Kind Mr. Coppinger to have created them in such profusion! And what warmth was there in the Coppinger's Court sun! The second rate luminary dedicated to Cluhir was no more than a candle to it! Mr. And who were these, coming up the path from Mr. Coppinger's lovely river?
"Now," said Coppinger when we had emptied our pockets, "there's precious little grub left, and it's none the better for being carried in a local Spanish newspaper." "Yours is mostly tobacco ashes." "It'll get worse if we leave it. We've a lot more bad scrambling ahead of us." That was obvious. So we sat down beside the stream there at the bottom of the barranca, and ate up all of what was left.
Coppinger," Father Hogan resumed, "I'm told only told, mind you that the Major had Mount Music and the demesne advertised on the English papers " "Good God!" exclaimed Larry, startled out of his sulk; "to sell?" Father David, like other gentlemen of his age and cloth, had the Baboo's predilection for a well-worn quotation. "As to that I cannot say," he said portentously.
All three men shook their heads. They looked at each other. They looked at Brent. "Ay what?" said Crood. "Just so!" agreed Mallett. "That's precisely where it is," concluded Coppinger. "Exactly!" "More in it than anyone knows of most probably at present, Mr. Brent," observed Crood, with solemn significance. "Time, sir, time! Time, sir, may tell may!"
Coppinger, will I admit I don't quite know what people do with little fingers in these cases, something affectionate, no doubt!" "I thought your authority would have extended to little fingers!" broke in Christian, sparring for wind, and wishing she were not facing the window; "in any case, I fail to see what mine, in this instance, has to say to our being boycotted?"
"There may be no doubt are mischievous persons that would say such things, but I never heard nothing of the sort, sir. Political feeling, perhaps; but personal feeling no!" "Certainly not!" said Mallett. "Nothing of the sort!" said Coppinger. "Now, I should say," remarked Crood, waving his pipe again, "that our late lamented Mayor, as an individual, was much thought of amongst the townspeople.
It was a ten-mile tramp to the fonda at Santa Brigida, where we had set down our traps; and as Coppinger wanted to take a lot more photographs and measurements before we left this particular group of caves, it was likely we should be pretty sharp set before we got our next meal, and our next taste of the PATRON'S splendid old country wine. My faith!
Dixon, standing on the hearthrug in the sanctuary of the housekeeper's room, one wet afternoon, shortly after the Coppinger return: "I see changes here, better and worse, good and bad, but I didn't think I'd live to see what I seen to-day the children of this house consorting with a Papist!" "Fie!" said Mrs. Dixon, without conviction.
It measured some twenty inches by fifteen, by fifteen, but it was not so heavy as it looked, and when I had taken the remaining photographs, I lowered it down to Coppinger on the end of the rope. There was nothing more to do in the caves then, so I went down myself next. The lump of sheets was on the ground, and Coppinger was on all fours beside it. He was pretty nearly mad with excitement.
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