Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 17, 2025
ONCE more Dalrymple was sitting over his supper at the table in the vaulted room on the ground floor which Stefanone used as a wine shop. To tell the truth, it was very superior to the ordinary wine shops of Subiaco and had an exceptional reputation.
And with the thought of him came also jealousy of Maria Addolorata, and another hatred which was deeper and stronger and more vengeful than any she owed Sor Tommaso. She felt, rather than understood, that Dalrymple loved the nun with all his heart.
I don't know whether the friendship of Conway Dalrymple had not done as much to secure John Eames his position at the Bayswater dinner-tables, as had either the private secretaryship, or the earl's money; and yet, when they had first known each other, now only two or three years ago, Conway Dalrymple had been the poorer man of the two.
As soon as Dave had left tranquillity behind, Gwen set herself to anticipate an anxiety she saw Aunt M'riar wanted to express, but was hanging fire over. "You needn't be afraid about this chick, Aunt M'riar," she said. "It isn't really infectious, only contagious. You can only get it from the patient. Dr. Dalrymple says so. Like the thing you can only buy of the maker.
"Do you hear what is said in the town?" "Sometimes. The gardener brings the gossip and tells it to the cook. Or Sora Nanna tells it to me when she brings the linen. There are a thousand ways. The people think we know nothing because they never see us. But we hear all that goes on." Dalrymple said nothing in answer for some time. Then he spoke suddenly and rather hoarsely.
Then about her head he laid his plaid in folds and drew it forward over her shoulders. She let him do it, not realizing what service the shawl had but lately done. They walked forward. The boy was fast asleep and did not move. The mule stamped a little as they came up. Dalrymple lifted Maria upon the pack-saddle, sideways, and stretched the packing-cords behind her back. "Hold on," he said.
And you can make Dalrymple see the truth, since he has confided in you. Will you do that? He will not believe me, and you can save him. Besides, he will not see me. I have tried twice to-day. He has made up his mind that he will not see me." "I will do my best," said Francesca, leaning her head back against the marble rail, and half closing her eyes. "How terrible it all is!" "Yes.
"How? where? Cool, too!" "Oh, on the Alps somewhere." "On the Alps! saved her life! Come now, I like that," said Dacres, with bitter intonation. "Aha! don't I know her? I warrant you she contrived all that. Oh, she's deep! But how did it happen? Did you hear?" "Well, I didn't hear any thing very definite. It was something about a precipice. It was Lady Dalrymple that told me.
"Her most reverend excellency," answered Maria Addolorata, with a little emphasis, as though to teach him the proper mode of addressing the abbess, "is suffering. She has had a bad night." "I shall hope to be allowed to give some advice to her most reverend excellency," said Dalrymple, to show that he had understood the hint. "She will not allow you to see her.
LETTER CXLV. TO JOHN ADAMS, December 27, 1785 Paris, December 27, 1785. Dear Sir, Your favors of the 13th and 20th were put into my hands today. This will be delivered to you by Mr. Dalrymple, secretary to the legation of Mr. Crawford. I do not know whether you were acquainted with him here.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking