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Updated: June 21, 2025
While he watched him the anger in Gay's face faded slowly into disgust. "Now I've stirred up a hornet's nest," he thought, annoyed by his impetuosity. "Who, I wonder, was the fellow, and what a fool what a tremendous fool I have been!" With his love of ease, of comfort, of popularity, the situation appeared to him to be almost intolerable.
The rich bring to their lord pearls, carvings of ivory, white chargers, and costly broidered garments. The poor present white pigeons and handfuls of rice. Nor doth the great king regard one gift above another, so long as all be white. And so do they keep the king's birthday." Lloyd, leaning forward, listened with such breathless interest that it attracted Gay's attention.
Her tone was firm, but she plucked nervously at a bit of crape on the sleeve of Mrs. Gay's gown. "Perhaps you're right," he replied quietly. He had spoken in a stiff and constrained manner, with little show of his suffering, yet all the while he felt that a band of iron was fastened across his brain, and the physical effect of this pressure was almost unendurable.
They were chiefly to be seen in old-fashioned country churches, such as that where, in Gay's eclogue, the village swains followed fair Blouzelind to her burial, and listened while the good man warned them from his text, and descanted upon the uncertainty of life And spoke the hour-glass in her praise quite out.
Yet in spite of this coarseness of finish, his face was well coloured, attractive, and full of generous, if whimsical, humour. A judge of men would have seen in it proof that Mr. Gay's character consisted less in a body of organized tendencies than in a procession of impulses.
Then she bent her delicately-molded head and studied the passport. The Messenger, still blushing, drew her hat firmly over her forehead and fastened a loosened braid. Presently she took up her bridle. "I will ask Colonel Gay's protection for Waycross House," she said in a low voice. "I am so dreadfully sorry that this has happened."
I said: "Like the bow on the strings when she plays, So she crosses with music our days. Our hearts doth she tune to the gladness of June, And the smile that brings sunshine is Gay's." "My dear, that's no Limerick, that's poetry!" exclaimed Kitty, and Gay called down: "It's awfully nice of you, girls, but please change the subject.
Gay, just behind her, paused and peered also. "What do you suppose has happened?" she whispered. "It's as dark as a pocket, and Maud hasn't come yet." LLOYD and Betty were starting to undress when there was a light tap at the door, and Gay's head appeared. In response to their eager call, she came in, and, shutting the door behind her, stood with her back against it.
According to all accounts Charles Paulet, third Duke of Bolton, was at the age of twenty-eight forced by his father to marry Lady Anne Vaughan, only daughter and heiress of John, Earl of Carbery. When the old Duke died in 1722 they separated. Some years later the Duke took for his mistress Lavinia Fenton, the "Polly" in Gay's "Beggar's Opera." On the death of his wife in 1751 he married her.
There was no moon, but the mellow sheen of the stars hid the roughness from the mind, and conveyed an added peace. The girl breathed a deep sigh. It was an expression of relief, of something almost like content. And it told of what Annie Gay's coming had meant to her.
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