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Updated: May 20, 2025
Dobson's next order, after she had been a few moments in the library, and Hannah obeyed, reading as she ran: "DAVENPORT, August . "To MRS. JAMES MARKHAM, Olney: "There's a strange woman sick here. Please come home.
For all afternoon those twelve little lines of Dobson's have been running through my head: Fame is a food that dead men eat I have no stomach for such meat. In little light and narrow rooms, They eat it in the silent tombs, With no kind voice of comrade near To bid the banquet be of cheer.
"Pompey," said I, one afternoon, while reclining on the sofa in Dobson's drawing-room, my leg being not yet sufficiently restored to admit of my going out "Pompey, I've got news for you." To my surprise my doggie would not answer to that name at all when I used it, though he did so when it was used by Miss Blythe. "Dumps!" I said, in a somewhat injured tone. Ears and tail at once replied.
"Frantz Frantz!" she said; and they remained there side by side, silent and burning with emotion, soothed by Madame Dobson's romance, which reached their ears by snatches through the shrubbery: "Ton amour, c'est ma folie. Helas! je n'en puis guei-i-i-r." Suddenly Risler's tall figure appeared in the doorway. "This way, Chebe, this way. They are in the summerhouse."
We've got the entire contract for Dobson's Patent Pavement for the city of Mobile. See here." Mr. Bigler made some figures; contract so; much, cost of work and materials so much, profits so much. At the end of three months the city would owe the company three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars-two hundred thousand of that would be profits.
Dobson's feared of the polis, and if we can terrify Dobson he'll terrify the rest." "Ay, but where are the police?" "They're no' here yet, but they're comin'. The fear o' them is aye in Dobson's mind. If he thinks the polis has arrived, he'll put the wind up the lot.... WE maun be the polis." Dickson could only stare while the Chief of Staff unfolded his scheme.
The brown head which rolled so restlessly all night was lying quietly upon the pillows, the burning cheek resting upon one hand, and the mass of long, bright hair tucked back under one of Mrs. Dobson's own nightcaps, that lady having sought in vain for such an article among her mistress' wardrobe. She did not hear Andy as he stepped softly across the floor to the bedside.
Outside, they could hear the Sunday organs, distant shouts on the river, and nearer at hand, in the garden, Madame Dobson's amorous, languishing voice, sighing: "On dit que tu te maries; Tu sais que j'en puis mouri-i-i-r!" "Yes, Frantz, I have always loved you," said Sidonie.
He has also found a congenial subject in Austin Dobson's "The Rose and the Gardener." He gets for a moment far from its florid grace in "I Looked within My Soul," which has an unwonted bigness, and is a genuine Lied. These albums include three skilfully written "English Songs," and three "French Songs," "Soupir" taking the form of melodic recitative.
His mind was wandering, and he plucked it back. Was this death in very deed? He tried to grasp at the present, the earthly present, fading quick away. He lay there on the bed on Sally Dobson's bed in the house-place, not on his accustomed pallet in the lean-to. He knew that much.
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