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Updated: May 7, 2025
The programme of my ranch life was as follows: Each morning, at eight-thirty, having been reading or correcting proofs in bed since four or five, I went to my desk. Odds and ends of correspondence and notes occupied me till nine, and at nine sharp, invariably, I began my writing. By eleven, sometimes a few minutes earlier or later, my thousand words were finished.
Opposite him stood a small brick church, retired by a few yards of turf, crossed by a path, from the iron railings that abutted on the pavement: and a notice-board proclaimed that in this, church of the Sacred Heart mass was said on Sundays at eleven, on holidays of obligation at nine, and on weekdays at eight-thirty A.M. Confessions were heard on Saturday evenings and on Thursday evenings before the first Friday, from eight to nine P.M. Catechism was at three P.M. on Sundays; and rosary, sermon and benediction at seven P.M. A fat cat, looking as if it were dead, lay relaxed on the grass beneath this board.
Occupying one entire end of the room was the circus ring, and on this public attention was centered. A gayly decorated poster at the door bore the pleasing information that there would be four performances, at two-thirty, four-thirty, eight-thirty, and nine-thirty, respectively, in which would appear the "Celebrated Alice in Wonderland Animals."
And you should have watched Mr. Robert for the next few days. Talk about consistent trainin'! Why, he quits goin' to the club, cuts out his lunch-hour, and reports at the office at eight-thirty. Not for business, though: Bernard Shaw. Seems he's decided to specialize in Shaw.
He was inclined to believe that Captain Scraggs had not read the taffrail log correctly, and when at eight-thirty he tried the whistle again he was still without results in the way of an echo from the cliff, albeit the engine room howler brought him several of a profuse character from the perspiring McGuffey. "We've passed Pedro," Mr. Gibney decided.
That evening, at eight-thirty, exquisitely dressed and wearing a large buttonhole of Parma violets, Dorian Gray was ushered into Lady Narborough's drawing-room by bowing servants. His forehead was throbbing with maddened nerves, and he felt wildly excited, but his manner as he bent over his hostess's hand was as easy and graceful as ever.
You can always tell by the way people handle them." Doctor South put down the novel immediately. "Breakfast at eight-thirty," he said and left the room. "What a funny old fellow!" thought Philip. He soon discovered why Doctor South's assistants found it difficult to get on with him.
"At seven-thirty, or thereabouts." "Where were you between seven-thirty and eight-thirty?" "In the kitchen with Peter." I told him then about the dog, and about finding him shut in the room. The wash-stand was pulled out. The sheets of Mr. Ladley's manuscript, usually an orderly pile, were half on the floor. The bed coverings had been jerked off and flung over the back of a chair.
Monday evening is the band concert and promenade from seven o'clock until eight-thirty. After that, the freshmen class will have the floor and we'll give the play before the juniors. Their efforts will fall flat on Tuesday evening." "But the costumes!" exclaimed Hester. "What will we do for them?" "Borrow them from the juniors when they are from their rooms. We will need them but one evening.
"I have just taken her to the station. She caught the eight-thirty." He was at once solicitous. "No bad news, I hope?" There was no thought in his mind that her absence was other than temporary. "She is not coming back, Brandon." She had not addressed him as Brandon before. He stared. "You you mean " The words died on his lips. "She is not coming back," she repeated.
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