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Updated: June 3, 2025
Fay's Prolific is a new sort that has been very highly praised. The Victoria is an excellent late variety, which, if planted in a sheltered place, prolongs the currant-season well into the autumn. Spurious kinds are sold under this name. The true Victoria produces a pale-red fruit with tapering clusters or racemes of berries.
"Why don't oo marry my new mower an' be my favver?" Of the thousands of questions put by little Fay to Lassiter the was the first he had been unable to answer. "Fay Fay, don't ask questions like that," said Jane. "Why?" "Because," replied Jane. And she found it strangely embarrassing to meet the child's gaze. It seemed to her that Fay's violet eyes looked through her with piercing wisdom.
Still it was Fay's suggestion, and Fay could do no wrong. But he knew that nothing she could do or say, nothing new that she could spring upon him would have power to shake his decision to leave Rome on Friday. It was the only thing to do. L'on fait plus souvent des trahisons par faiblesse que par un dessein formé de trahir. Fay's evening-party was a success. Her parties generally were.
On that short walk under the pinyons to Fay's cabin he had suffered many changes of emotion, but never anything like this change which made him fierce and strong to fight, deep and crafty to plan, hard as iron to endure. The village appeared very quiet, though groups of women stood at the doors of cabins. If they talked, it was very low.
A possible God hovering near him, like the Indian's spirit-step on the trail, made his soul the darker for Fay's crime, and he saw with light, with deeper sadness, with sterner truth. More than once the Indian turned on his mustang to look up the slope and the light flashed from his dark, somber face.
Henninger and Smith, two of the three Mormon men living in the village, were standing before the closed door of the school-house. A tigerish feeling thrilled Shefford when he saw them on guard there. Shefford purposely avoided looking at Fay's cabin as long as he could keep from it.
I am not curious concerning other people's affairs, but I confess I should like to know something of Aunt Fay's past, for she seems so ignorant of some things, so well-informed upon others. Suddenly Miss Van Buren looked up from a red book which had engaged her attention ever since, at Alphen, we turned out of the narrow water-street of the canal into the broader thoroughfare of the river.
He started to jerk his hands apart, hesitated again with an oddly apprehensive look at the big man, then whirled off the cape. Gusterson sucked in such a big gasp that he hiccuped. The right shoulder of Fay's jacket and shirt had been cut away. Thrusting up through the neatly hemmed hole was a silvery gray hump with a one-eyed turret atop it and two multi-jointed metal arms ending in little claws.
Lord Hampstead has been left standing for a long time in Marion Fay's sitting-room after the perpetration of his great offence, and Mrs. Roden has been standing there also, having come to the house almost immediately after her return home from her Italian journey. Hampstead, of course, knew most of the details of the Di Crinola romance, but Marion had as yet heard nothing of it.
But there is another travail of soul, barren, unavailing, which flings itself down, and tosses in impotent misery from side to side, from mood to mood, as in a sickly trance. Such was Fay's. Her decision not to speak had been made in the moment when she had let Michael accuse himself, and she kept silence. But that she did not know. She thought it was still to make. "I must speak.
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