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Updated: June 12, 2025
Do what he would, he could not resist a violent trembling. Right under foot was a sheer depth of seventy feet. It was a dangerous place. They pushed by a truck of fuel to get to the railing that crowned the thing. The reek of the furnace, a sulphurous vapour streaked with pungent bitterness, seemed to make the distant hillside of Hanley quiver.
His pitiful moans caught the attention of Lieutenant Hanley and he said: "I hate to see that German suffer so. How I do hope this shall be the end of all wars." Such was the spirit of this noble man. Well do we remember the day when the regimental band of the 26th division played for the wounded boys at Glorieux. It was a mild October day.
A wind was sucking through the archway with an audible whine: the guard might not hear me. The sorter's desk. He came in. I murmured Hanley's rating. "Rush. Danger. Special." It went swiftly through. Hanley, thank Heaven, was at his desk. I plugged in my little image finder; held it over my head; turned it slowly. I whispered: "Look around, Chief. See where I am? Near Nareda; couple of miles out.
How often, when we wistfully sought to help those patient sufferers, while we were so weak our faltering steps failed us ofttimes, did we hear the calm voice of Lieutenant Hanley filling us with hope and inspiring us with new courage. Across the room lay a German suffering from abdominal wounds.
Besides, my note was so respectable, and respectful, it surely required and demanded something more of an answer, methinks, from a person of birth or education, than the single bald word 'mis-sent, like the postman! Surely, Miss Hanley, now, putting your friendship apart, candidly you must think as I do?
'Yes, was murmured all along the line, and seeing her hero marching away at the head of so many women, any one of whom he could have had for the asking, it crossed her mind that it was unnatural for him to stoop to her, a poor little dressmaker of Hanley, who did not know anything except, perhaps, how to stitch the seams of a skirt.
He was made aware of it by the sad, sympathetic glances of the women; by their tactful courtesies; by the fact that Livingstone, anxious to propitiate Hanley, treated him rudely; by the sight of the young officers, each just starting upon a career of honor, and possible glory, as his career ended in humiliation; and by the big war-ship herself, that recalled certain crises when he had only to press a button and war-ships had come at his bidding.
He bowed, and, apparently serene and undismayed, resumed his seat. From the contest, judging from the manner of each, it was Marshall, not Hanley, who had emerged victorious. But Miss Cairns was not deceived. Under the unexpected blow, Marshall had turned older. His clear blue eyes had grown less alert, his broad shoulders seemed to stoop. In sympathy, her own eyes filled with sudden tears.
"Humph! that hotly contested case of Cobham versus Hanley still in progress, I suppose," said the judge. At this moment Sam entered the breakfast room and laid a card on the table before his master. "Eh? 'Lieutenant Springald, U.S.A. Who the mischief is he?" said the judge, reading the name on the card. "The gentleman, sir, says he has called to see you on particular business," replied Sam.
William H. was b. at Heanor, Derbyshire, and was apprenticed to a builder; Mary was b. at Coleford, Gloucestershire; they m. in 1821, and settled at Hanley, where they carried on business as chemists. Two years later they removed to Nottingham, where they remained for 12 years, and where much of their literary work was accomplished.
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