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Updated: June 15, 2025
Denner sat down on the steps outside of his big white front door, which had a brass knocker and knob that Mary had polished until the paint had worn away around them. Mr. Denner's house was of rough brick, laid with great waste of mortar, so that it looked as though covered with many small white seams.
He even sang a little to himself, in a thin, sweet voice, keeping time with his stick, like a drum-major, and dwelling faithfully on all the prolonged notes. "Believe me," sang Mr. Denner, "'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms Which I gaze on so fondly to-day'" Mr. Denner's rendering of charms was very elaborate.
I I" He choked with rage, and shook his fist at the motionless figure on the steps. Then, trembling with impotent fury, oaths stumbling upon his lips, he turned and rushed into the gathering darkness. Gifford watched him, and then the door swung shut, and he went back to Mr. Denner's library. His breath was short, and he was tingling with passion, but he had no glow of triumph.
I must say, nothing does show a person's position in this world so well as his manner of leaving it. You won't find poor William Denner making a fuss. He isn't Admiral Denner's great-grandson for nothing. Yes, Arabella Forsythe has talked about her soul, and made arrangements for her funeral, every day for a week. That's where her father's money made in buttons crops out!"
Denner's head, lifted him that he might take with greater ease the medicine he held in a little slender-stemmed glass. "Ah," said Mr. Denner, between a sigh and a groan, as Gifford laid him down again, "how gentle you are! There is a look in your face, sometimes, of one of your aunts, sir; not, I think, Miss Deborah.
Denner's door to beg a word of encouragement from Mary, or take a momentary comfort from the messages he sent her that he was better, and he begged she would not allow herself the slightest discomfort; it was really of no consequence, no consequence at all. Gifford was almost always with the little gentleman, and scarcely left him, even to walk through the garden to the grassy street with Lois.
Denner, bursting into a cold perspiration of fright to see how far his embarrassment had betrayed him "not that I really care to know! Oh, not at all!" The rector flung his head back, and his rollicking laugh jarred the very papers on Mr. Denner's desk. "It is just as well you don't, for I am sure I could not say. I respect them both immensely. I have from boyhood," he added, with a droll look.
He could lay the whole matter frankly before some dispassionate person, whose judgment should determine his course. Why had he not thought of it before! Mr. Denner's face brightened; he walked gayly along, and began to hum to himself: "Oh, wert thou, love, but near me, But near, near, near me, How fondly wouldst thou cheer me" Here he stopped abruptly. Whom should he ask?
Denner's father wrote their wills and drew up their deeds in the same brick office which his son occupied now, and it was a point of decency and honor that wills should not be disputed. Yet Mr. Denner felt that his life was full of occupation. He had his practicing in the dim organ-loft of St.
But he made no effort to join them; it was happiness enough to contemplate the approaching solution of his difficulties, and say to himself triumphantly, "This time to-morrow!" and he began joyously to play, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," rendering carefully all the quavers in that quavering air. Mr. Denner's meditations made him late at the rectory, and he felt Mrs.
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