Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
"On the contrary, I've been infernally stupid. I met him coming down the drive from Meriton. He had been pumping Matters for Sir Miles's present address which he didn't get. What's his game, do you think?" "Blackmail." "That crossed my mind too. He seems a deep one, and I don't like his looks." "You are sure it is Glasson?"
"But who is it?" she asked, as the stranger, swinging his lantern, marched straight up to Mr. Hucks's door. "Good Lord, it's the man himself Glasson! And he's come for his orphans." "He shan't have 'em, then," said Mrs. Mortimer. "A many-sided man." Let Mr. Christopher Hucks introduce himself in his own customary way, that is, by presenting his card of business: Mr.
Its gloom came of the thick coating of dirt on their upper panes, and a couple of wire blinds that cut off all light below. Doctor Glasson had walked straight to his desk, and stood for a few moments with his back to the child, fingering his papers and apparently engaged in thought. By-and-by he picked up a pair of spectacles, turned, and adjusted them slowly whilst he stared down on her.
But unluckily, though they could see him well enough, they could not reach Doctor Glasson. He clung to the head-rope of a barge moored some nine feet from shore, and it appeared that he was hurt, for his efforts to lift himself up and over the stem of the boat, though persistent, were feeble, and at every effort he groaned.
If the skin's broken we had better cauterise." Miss Sally confessed afterwards that she would have enjoyed operating on the man with a red-hot poker: "and I'd have used the biggest poker in the house." But Doctor Glasson arose, felt himself, and announced that it was unnecessary. "Mr. Chichester tells me you wish for Sir Miles Chandon's address.
They had almost reached the entrance gate of Culvercoombe before he reduced the affronted horse to a trot, and Doctor Glasson, who had been clutching the rail of the dog-cart in acutest physical terror, had no nerve as yet to resume the conversation. A couple of aged mastiff bitches mothers in their time, and now great-grandmothers, of a noble race lay sunning themselves before the house-porch.
"'Ush! Oh, 'ush an' lie close! It's Glasson!" "'Do you know me, my lord? 'Excellent well; you are a fishmonger." HAMLET. He stood on the edge of the wharf a black figure in an Inverness cape with his back towards the angle of the store where the children hid. There was no mistaking him.
Hucks, but without heartiness. He disliked parsons. He looked upon all men as rogues more or less, but held that ministers of religion claimed an unfair advantage on the handicap. In particular this Dr. Glasson rubbed him, as he put it, the wrong way. "Good evening," said Dr. Glasson. "You will excuse my calling at this late hour." "Cert'nly. Come to pay for the coals?
Hucks wound up, "there's money in this somewhere." Doctor Glasson did not answer for a few seconds. He seemed to be considering. His eyes blinked, and the folds of his lean throat worked as if he swallowed down something. "I will be frank with you, Mr. Hucks," he said at length. "There may or may not be, as you put it, money in this.
I was forced to send out and buy new clothes for some, there and then; and their backs, when I stripped 'em, were criss-crossed with weals not quite fresh, you understand, for Glasson had been kept busy of late, and the woman Huggins hadn't his arm.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking