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Updated: June 20, 2025
At last had come doubt and the hateful interview with Spinker. As Rita turned in at the doorway below Margaret's flat, then, Brisley was lighting a cigarette in the shelter of a porch nearly opposite, and Gunn was not far away. Margaret immediately perceived that her friend's condition was alarming.
"You've been drinking: and I place no reliance whatever in your evidence. I do not believe that my wife or any one else but ourselves is upon these premises." The watery eyes of the insulted man protruded unnaturally. "Drinkin'!" he whispered, "drink " But indignation now deprived Gunn of speech and: "Excuse me, sir," interrupted the nasal voice of Brisley, "but I can absolutely answer for Gunn.
"It don't make much odds, do it, now?" asked Dick. "Ben Gunn's not here in the body, any more'n Flint." But the older hands greeted this remark with scorn. "Why, nobody minds Ben Gunn," cried Merry; "dead or alive, nobody minds him." It was extraordinary how their spirits had returned, and how the natural colour had revived in their faces.
With wild howls of agony, they began clawing each other, incidentally, by way of diversion, socking their claws into the professor's face now and then, and ripping up a few furrows in that gentleman's countenance. Professor Gunn howled louder than the cats, and tried to fling them off; but they clung to him as if they loved him, and continued to shower marks of affection upon him.
Halliwell, and Maly, and Sarah, and his own baby, and Tommy and poor Pummy, and would, if Glum Gunn beat him, help him to bear the blows, and not mind them very much. He ended with something like this: "God, I can't do anything for anybody! I wish I could! You can get near them, God: please do something good to every one of them because I can't.
Then in perplexity, akin to tears, she walked from the room, carefully drawing her dress aside as Gunn held the door for her. "A fine girl," said Gunn, his thin lips working; "a fine spirit. 'Twill be pleasant to break it; but she does not know who is master here." "She is young yet," said the other, hurriedly. "I will soon age her if she looks like that at me again," said Gunn.
First short story, "Arthur McQuaid, American," Outlook, May 23, 1917. At present, living in Washington, working in the Ordnance Department on industrial service problems. Shaft of Light, A. SHEPHERD, WILLIAM GUNN, is a war correspondent in Europe, who was with Richard Harding Davis at Salonika when the incident occurred which suggested to Davis the idea for his short story, "The Deserter."
It was the evening-exhibition, and Clare was going his round with his wand of office, pointing to the different animals, and telling of them what he thought would most interest his hearers, when another attendant, the most friendly of all, came behind him, and whispered that Glum Gunn had got hold of Abby, and must be going to do the dog a mischief.
It was nearly an hour after midnight that Nick Gunn, kicking off his shoes, went stealthily out onto the landing. A little light came from the partly open door of the sick-room, but all else was in blackness. He moved along and peered in. The nurse was siting in a high-backed oak chair by the fire. She had slipped down in the seat, and her untidy head hung on her bosom.
She looked from the innkeeper to his odd-looking guest, and conscious of something strained in the air, gave him a little bow and quitted the room. "You insist upon staying, then?" said Mullet, after a pause. "More than ever," replied Gunn, with a leer toward the door. "Why, you don't think I'm afraid, Captain? You should know me better than that." "Life is sweet," said the other.
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