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Updated: May 31, 2025
Garvin had got to his feet and was staring wildly, with reddened lids. "Are you Horace Bentley?" he demanded. "That is my name, sir," Mr. Bentley replied. His expression of surprise was only momentary. And in all his life Hodder had never beheld a greater contrast in human beings than between that gracious and courtly old man and the haggard, unkempt, unshaved, and starving outcast facing him.
Say the word and I'll call off this Eddie Wood fight." "Comrade Brady," said Psmith with some enthusiasm, "I call that a sporting offer. I'm very much obliged. But we mustn't stand in your way. If you eliminate this Comrade Wood, they will have to give you a chance against Jimmy Garvin, won't they?" "I guess that's right, sir," said the Kid.
As a man, he shrank from confessing to her, however indirectly, the fact that she herself was so vital an element in his disillusionment. For the conversation in the garden had been the immediate cause of the inner ferment ending in his resolution to go away, and had directed him, by logical steps, to the encounter in the church with Mrs. Garvin. "You have not yet finished the garden?" he asked.
And later on I found out from Miss Grower, who lives here, Mrs. Bledsoe's history. Eight or nine years ago her husband was sent to prison for forgery, and she was left with four small children, on the verge of a fate too terrible to mention. She was brought to Mr. Bentley's attention, and he started her in life. "And now Mrs. Garvin forms another link to that chain, which goes on growing.
"We shall find something," said the rector, striving to throw into his voice confidence and calm. He did not dare to look at her, but continued to move the fan. The child stirred a little. Mrs. Garvin put out her hand. "Yes, the doctor was here. He was very kind. Oh, sir," she exclaimed, "I hope you won't think us ungrateful and that Mr. Bentley won't. Dr.
And you'd better go back to that church of his and pray to keep his soul out of hell." . . . His voice, which had risen even to a higher pitch, fell silent. And all at once, without warning, Garvin sank, or rather tumbled upon the bed, sobbing in a way that was terrible to see. The wife stole across the room, sat down beside him, and laid her hand on his shoulder. . . .
Garvin had got to his feet and was staring wildly, with reddened lids. "Are you Horace Bentley?" he demanded. "That is my name, sir," Mr. Bentley replied. His expression of surprise was only momentary. And in all his life Hodder had never beheld a greater contrast in human beings than between that gracious and courtly old man and the haggard, unkempt, unshaved, and starving outcast facing him.
You must not stop me now," he said with a touch of severity. "You'll listen to me, right here and now," cried Garvin. "If you think I am going to let Eldon Parr's minister, or any one else belonging to him, save that boy's life, you've got another guess comin'. That's all. I'd rather have him die d'ye hear? I'd rather have him die."
"You licked Cyclone Dick all right, Kid, I hear." "And who but a bone-head thought he wouldn't?" demanded the third warmly. "He could whip a dozen Cyclone Dicks in the same evening with his eyes shut." "He's the next champeen," admitted the first speaker. "If he juts it over Jimmy Garvin," argued the second. "Jimmy Garvin!" cried the third. "He can whip twenty Jimmy Garvins with his feet tied.
I was gone longer than I expected." The fact that the child still lived, that she was again in his presence, the absorbing act of caring for him seemed to have calmed her. "It is nothing, what I do," answered Mrs. Breitmann, and turned away reluctantly, the tears running on her cheeks. "When you go again, I come always, Mrs. Garvin. Ach!"
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