Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 14, 2025
The impression was so largely the impression that he had kept of the dull-blue eyes and the gaunt, slanted figure of Andrew Jackson Durgin that he could not be very distinct in his sense of which was now the presence and which the absence. He remembered, with an effort, that the son's beard was straw-colored, but he had to make no effort to recall the robust effect of Mrs.
He has to be a man, and he'd better be a gentleman." Mrs. Durgin still looked serious. "Have you come back to Boston for good now? Do you expect to be there right along?" "I've taken a studio there. Yes, I expect to be in Boston now. I've taken to teaching, and I fancy I can make a living. If Jeff comes to Cambridge, and I can be of any use "
"That is a very grave supposition." "It is not a supposition," cried Richard. "The daylight is not a plainer fact." "You are assuming too much, Mr. Shackford." "I am assuming nothing. Durgin has convicted himself; he has fallen into a trap of his own devising.
With a saucy blast of its horn the automobile flashed past the store. There were two young women in it, one driving. Louise felt sure they were Miss Louder and Miss Noyes, mentioned by Gusty Durgin the day before, and their frocks and hats were all that their names suggested.
Her theory was that she was shocked to recognize it now, because of its relation to her brother, but her theories did not always agree with the facts. That evening, however, she was truly surprised when, after a rather belated ring at the door, the card of Mr. Thomas Jefferson Durgin came up to her from the reception-room.
If sickness or any sort of trouble comes to a poor man's door, she's never far off with her kind words and them things the rich have when they are laid up." "Oh, the girl is well enough." "You couldn't say less. Before your mother died," Mrs. Durgin had died the previous autumn, "I see that angil going to your house many a day with a little basket of comforts tucked under her wing.
He walked away without saying good-night, and Westover went to bed without the chance of setting himself right. In the morning, when he came down to breakfast, and stopped at the desk to engage a conveyance for the station from Frank Whitwell the boy forestalled him with a grave face. "You don't know about Mrs. Durgin?" "No; what about her?" "Well, we can't tell exactly.
In the morning he tramped through the woods and climbed the hills with Jeff Durgin, who seemed never to do anything about the farm, and had a leisure unbroken by anything except a rare call from his mother to help her in the house.
His father met Jeff's advances with philosophical blandness and evasion, and Mrs. Durgin was provisionally dry and severe both with the Whitwells and her son. After breakfast she went to the parlor, and Jeff set about a tour of the hotel, inside and out. He looked carefully to the details of its winter keeping.
Vostrand, with a burst of frankness, "he thinks you don't like him." "He's wrong," said Westover. "But I might dislike him very much." "I see what you mean," said Mrs. Vostrand, "and I'm glad you've been so frank with me. I've been so interested in Mr. Durgin, so interested! Isn't he very young?" The question seemed a bit of indirection to Westover. But he answered directly enough.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking