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Updated: June 2, 2025
But the dominant note in this smile was bewildered and depressed helplessness, and at it the maternal instinct sprang full-grown in Fifi's thin little bosom. A passionate wish to mother the little Doctor tugged at her heart. "You know what you need, Mr. Queed? Friends lots of good friends " He winced as from a blow. "I assure you "
But Lady Stavornell is a strong Church-woman, my dear fellow; she doesn't believe in divorce, and nothing on earth could persuade her to marry Captain Crawford so long as her first husband still remained alive." "Oho!" said Cleek. "Then Fifi's husband isn't the only man with a grievance and a cause? There's another, eh?" "Another? I expect there must be a dozen, if the truth were known.
Several peeks were needed, with artful attention to algebra between whiles, before she was at last convinced that she had it. Undoubtedly it was There was nothing enormous about Fifi's vocabulary, but she well knew what to do in a case like this. Behind her stood a battered little walnut bookcase, containing the Paynter library.
Perhaps, after all ... Mitts ... Why, look here, isn't there one small objection, one trifling want of the fulness of perfection to be raised against the gift of mitts?" "There's this point against mitts," said Sharlee slowly. "Fifi's in bed now, and I'm afraid she's likely to be there for some time. Of course she could not wear the mitts in bed.
A rare color sprang into Fifi's pallid cheeks: "I I thought you liked me from your being so good about helping me with my lessons and everything." Queed cleared his throat. "I do like you in a way. Yes in that way I like you very well. I will call you F Fifi, if you wish. But friends! Oh, no! They take up more time than such a man as I can afford."
Fifi's blue eyes glittered, her red lips closed in a tight line, and her little pointed face was as the face of a wicked sprite. Eunice stood, surveying her. Tall, stately, beautiful, she towered above her guest, and looked down on her with a fine disdain.
She smiled straight into his eyes, sweetly and fearlessly. "Seven! Just what you said! Oh, if I could only do them like you! I'm ever and ever so much obliged, Mr. Queed and now I can go to bed." Mr. Queed avoided Fifi's smile; he obviously deliberated. "If you have any more of these terrible difficulties," he said slowly, "it isn't necessary for you to sit there all evening and cry over them.
Queed looked and recognized the flag that was everywhere in predominance that day. "And what will it mean if I wear it?" "Only," said Sharlee, "that you love the South." Vaguely Queed saw in her blue-spar eyes the same kind of softness that he noticed in people's voices this afternoon, a softness which somehow reminded him of a funeral, Fifi's or Colonel Cowles's. "Oh, very well, if you like."
Queed in his younger days had once made quite a specialty of mathematics, both lower, like Fifi's, and also far higher. The child's polite demurs were firmly overridden. Soon she was established in a chair at his side, the book open on the table between them. "Indicate the problem," said Mr. Queed. Fifi indicated it: No. 71 of the collection of stickers known as Miscellaneous Review.
What was there about him that invited this sort of thing?... And he was going to take Klinker's advice; he had seized upon it gratefully. Nor could he say that he was utterly insensate to Fifi's: he had caught himself saying over part of it not ten minutes ago.
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