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The fakir was squatting in the distance, on a big white stone, and in the quiet of the gloaming Cunningham could hear his coarse, lewd voice tossing crumbs of abuse and mockery to the seven or eight villagers who squatted near him half-amused, half-frightened, and altogether credulous.
Cunningham, without another glance at the dead Prince, rode up to Rosemary McClean, who was picking herself up and looking bewildered; she had watched the duel in speechless silence, lying full length in the dust, and she still could not speak when he reached her. "Put your foot on mine," he said reassuringly; "then swing yourself up behind me if you can. If you can't, I'll pick you up in front."
I hope by the morning you will be able to look at matters more calmly." Some time later Mrs. Cunningham came down again. "She has cried herself to sleep," she said. "She is much grieved about this money being lost." "It is annoying; still I cannot help thinking that the Colonel must have taken some such precaution to prevent the treasure from being lost." "One would certainly think so," Mrs.
The Sterling Club included not merely Tennyson, John Stuart Mill, Carlyle, Allan Cunningham, Lord Houghton, Sir Francis Palgrave, Bishop Thirlwall, who all receive separate notice elsewhere, but others who, being of less general fame, may best be noticed together here.
Cunningham, who informs us that "a painting is in progress from the same hand, showing Sir Walter as he lately appeared lying on a couch in his principal room: all the windows are closed save one, admitting a strong central light, and showing all that the room contains in deep shadow, or in strong sunshine."
"Miss Rose Euclid, in the trying and occasionally beautiful part of Haidee, was all that her admirers could have wished." ... "Miss Cunningham distinguished herself by her diction and bearing in the small part of the Messenger." The final words were, "The reception was quite favourable." "Quite favourable" indeed! Edward Henry had a chill.
"Was it this lady, do you think?" said Donovan, indicating Erica. Dolly trotted round with her dear little laughing face to make the scrutiny. "I fink vis one is plittier," she announced. Whereupon every one began to laugh. "The most charming compliment I ever heard!" said Leslie Cunningham. "Dolly ought to be patted on the back."
So Lord Oldborough knows nothing of the matter; and Cunningham gets half his business done, and supplies all his deficiencies, by means of this poor drudging genius.
Jack Cunningham, co-heir with James of his uncle's estate, was busy in the office he had inherited settling up one of the hundred details that had been left at loose ends by the promoter's sudden death. He looked up at the entrance of Lane. "What do you want?" he asked sharply. "Want a talk with you." "Well, I don't care to talk with you. What are you doing here anyhow.
This morning the Captain went up to York, and at last agreed with a Doctor who had been in the employ of Capt Cunningham, Com'r of one of the Privateer Sloops that came in the day before. His name is William Blake. He is a young gentleman, and well recommended by the Gen'l of York.
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