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Updated: June 9, 2025
Gibbs's arrival a messenger brought me a note which, to my surprise, I found to be from Blythe, who directed me to meet him in secret in a certain café in the Grosse Garten at eleven o'clock that night. Then I knew that something further had been planned. In accordance with the request, I went to the café at the hour appointed.
I saw a boy walk into the office. "Mr. Garten said you wanted me, sir," said he, addressing the Master Mechanic. "I do, Bartholomew," responded Neighbor. The figure in my mind's eye shrunk in a twinkling. Then it occurred to me that it must be this boy's father who was wanted. "You have been begging for a chance to take out an engine, Bartholomew," began Neighbor coldly; and I knew it was on.
The Guardian wishes you to bear this important matter in mind, for in time, the full Secretariat must be established in the Hazírá.... 7 July 1956 Mrs. Anna Grossmann: The June 1956 issue of “Pflanze und Garten” issued in Darmstadt, Nicolaiweg 9, has an article on the Faith, and a number of photographs of the Gardens and Shrine of the Báb, as well as the Mansion at Bahjí.
He had to work hard, and there was not much money attached to the job. But it was what the situation stood for that counted. It was his little rock of safety in the midst of a surging ocean of West Australian sheep. Once let him lose his grip on it, and there was no chance for him. He would be swept away beyond hope of return. 'What do you mean? he said hoarsely. 'In dze garten.
Twice again she had seen Ludovic, once meeting him in the kitchen, and once she had met him at a certain dark gate in the Nonnen Garten, to which she had contrived to make her escape for half an hour on a false plea. Things were much changed with Linda Tressel when she could condescend to do this.
Now and then I drop in at a theatre, but generally take refuge in some plebeian Lust Garten or Beer Hall, where amid clouds of tobacco-smoke, one may listen to the best part-singing and zitter-playing in Europe. And so my days drag by who but myself knows how slowly?
The distinguished foreigner says, says he "Sare, eef you af no 'otel, I sall recommend you, milor, to ze 'Otel Betfort, in ze Quay, sare, close to the bathing-machines and custom-ha-oose. Good bets and fine garten, sare; table-d'hote, sare, a cinq heures; breakfast, sare, in French or English style; I am the commissionaire, sare, and vill see to your loggish."
When Kitty Waring crossed the Hof Garten, even that old woman who years and years ago sold little Heinrich Heine plums would point out the girl to her contemporary the venerable under-gardener. "HÃ¥bsch" the old woman would growl. "Aber leichtsinnig leichtsinnig," the old man would add, for he was a misogynist.
Voices and laughter heralded an influx of bridge players; Mrs Ranyard, with Barnard, Miss Garten, and Dr Wemyss. A table of three women and one man did not suit the little lady's taste. "We're a very scratch lot. And we want fresh blood!" she announced carnivorously, as the pair in the alcove rose and came forward. The two men rose also, but went on with their talk.
"If he loves you he would forgive anything," said Fräulein Vogel. The room had grown dark, and they mechanically washed their brushes, cleaned their palettes, and made ready to go home. As they crossed the Hof Garten, two or three young painters joined them, and the talk ran on gayly.
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