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And the Mistress fell to chanting the comforts of modern civilization. THE FIRE-TENDER said he should like to know, by the way, if our civilization differed essentially from any other in anything but its comforts. HERBERT. We are no nearer religious unity. THE PARSON. We have as much war as ever. MANDEVILLE. There was never such a social turmoil.
Now to-day the sight of the neglected house and wretched garden drew his mind to the outcast; Herbert could not think how the man lived, and his heart smote him for not having tried to comfort him. So he turned aside and lifted the latch, and went up under an old apple tree that hung over the path, and knocked at the door.
He pondered over these things till he hated his cousin Herbert; and hating him, he vowed that Clara Desmond should not be his wife. "Is he to have everything?" he would say to himself. "No, by leavens! not everything. He has enough, and may be contented; but he shall not have all." And now, with similar thoughts running through his mind, he rode back to Hap House.
"You're just in time for breakfast, John," said his aunt. "Come in and sit down to the table. Bring in the boys, too." "Come in, boys," said the young man. "I guess you can eat something, can't you?" "We've had " Herbert began, but Abner checked him. "Come along, bub," he said. "What's a bit of bread? I ain't half full."
She started and took a step to one side, and that instant was sufficient to make her aware of the fact that the portmanteau carried by the porter to the train which was about to leave for Maidenhead was Herbert Courtland's. There was no mistaking it. It bore on one end his initials and his private sign.
He's thinking of some reproductions Herbert Tunbridge got while he was abroad pictures of things somebody's unearthed in Sicily or Cyprus. 'Crete, my dear. He turned his back on the fond mother and Jean who was already oh-ing with appreciation at the first of a pile of little Saras and Cecils.
Gideon Spilett did not cease from pondering over this new and inexplicable incident, the appearance of a fire on the coast of the island. The fire had actually been seen! His companions, Herbert and Pencroft, had seen it with him!
And now he has had the fever not very badly and he is quite well now, but he can't get anything to do. Truelove turned him off before the races for hanging about at the Three Pigeons, and nobody will employ him. I do think it is true what they say his mother, and Julius, and Herbert, and all that he has had a lesson, and wants to turn over a new leaf, but the people here won't let him.
"... I fancy you see no hand-writing so often as mine. I have been much pleased with your letter to Herbert Croft. I was at Dr. Gregory's last night. He has a nasal twang, right priestly in its note. He said he would gladly abridge his life of Chatterton, if I required it. But it is a bad work, and Coleridge should write a new one, or if he declines it, let it devolve on me.
She stood one moment, then turned to leave him, but half turned again to say scornfully 'I must go at once to my mother! I knew not I had left her with such a wolf as master Herbert is like to prove! 'Master Herbert is no bishop, Dorothy! 'The bishops, then, are the wolves, master Heywood? said the girl, with growing indignation. 'Dear Dorothy, I am but repeating what I hear.
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