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Updated: June 15, 2025
Russell's Hound that robbed him of moral weight, and prevented you from attaching great importance to his views. "Young lambs!" exclaimed Mrs. Gustus. "Really, my good Kew, had you nothing better to do?" "Not at that time," replied Kew. "You weren't up." And he sang to drown her sigh. Kew was the only person I ever knew who really sang to the tune of his moods.
Russell, the host and adopted member of the Family, was fifty-two. He did not know Jay, having only lately been culled by Mrs. Gustus that assiduous collector and placed in the bosom of the Family. She had found him blossoming unloved in the wilderness of a War Work Committee. He was well informed, yet a good listener; perhaps he possessed both these virtues to excess. At any rate Mrs.
Gustus to enjoy the Spring, but also to make you quite strong before you go back to work. And, again, not only that, but also to try and trace your sister Jay." Will you please imagine that continual intercourse with very talkative people had made Mr. Russell an adept at vocal compression.
Now to be simple is all very well, but turn it into an active verb and you spoil the whole idea. To simplify seems forced, and I think Mrs. Gustus struck harder on the note of simplification than that of simplicity. I should not dare to criticise her, however, and Cousin Gustus was satisfied, so criticism in any case would be intrusive.
So that although Cousin Gustus always conscientiously bought a dozen copies of each novel as it came out, he really wasted his money, for he was obliged to know all his wife's copy by heart before it got into print. By speaking each thought as well as writing it, Anonyma rather unfairly won a reputation twice over with the same material.
Kent and Lydia exchanged glances as Charlie led the squaw Susie, he called her into the woods, after Lydia had heaped her old arms with food. Kent and Gustus had put the dinner on the table and they all were seated at the meal when Charlie returned. "What did she want, Charlie?" asked Olga. "You wouldn't care if I told you," replied Charlie, grimly.
But I won't bid any one a fervent good-bye, because I daresay I shall be back again on leave for lack of anything else to do in three weeks' time, if we can't get across the Channel. In that case I'll meet you one day next month say at Land's End or the Firth of Forth. Otherwise say forty years hence in Heaven." "It is very wrong to joke about Death," said Cousin Gustus.
Lydia was tired the next day and elected to stay in camp with Miss Towne while the others, including even Margery and Gustus, went on an all day strawberry hunt. Lydia lay in a hammock with a book all the morning, but the greater part of the time, Miss Towne observed, her eyes were fastened broodingly on the lake and not on the printed page.
But under the fierce light that beats from the eye of a woman suddenly and violently grown old, Cousin Gustus and Anonyma don't well, Kew, do they?" The dusk filled the room as water fills a cup, and to look up at the light of an outside lamp on the ceiling was like looking up through water at the surface.
One does not need to see with one's outward eyes." "Oh, goodness me, how true that is," said the admirer. "But you must write a book about the downs, won't you? Do you take notes on your travels?" "My notebook is never out of my hand," answered Mrs. Gustus. "I jot down whatever occurs to me, wherever I may be.
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