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Updated: May 1, 2025
Ruth was running small races with herself. "Would you rather go and walk?" inquired Elizabeth timidly. "Oh, no. Not if you like to sit still," cheerfully. "I just do. I'm always tired. You are so pretty, I was afraid of you at first. And you have such beautiful clothes. That blue ribbon on your hat is like a bit of the sky. And God made the sky." The voice died away in admiration.
She now flattered herself that her establishment there would be sufficiently furnished to receive me, as she hoped, very shortly.
She would not have had time but for an unexpected delay in the arrival of the carriage which was to convey her parents, brother and sister and herself to the "squantum" ground. As it was, she came rushing out at almost the last moment, just as the captain was handing his wife into the vehicle. Max met her before she had reached the outer door.
Miss Sherwood's tone tried to be severe, and she tried not to smile and she succeeded in being just herself. "I came to talk business with Mr. Brainard. And I'm going to stay to talk business with Mr. Brainard. But I'll give him five seconds for congratulations provided at the end of the five seconds Mr. Hunt gets out of the room."
Would it not be a kind of treachery to gather from her every thing, yet aid her in nothing? to take advantage of her unsuspicious openness in order to learn all that related to one whom she yet hoped would belong ultimately to herself, and gratify an interested curiosity at the expence of a candour not more simple than amiable?
As he raised the miniature to his face, she would gently endeavour to turn away his hand, that he might not look at one whom she, poor thing, no doubt considered was usurping the place in his fluttering heart, that she long fancied had been filled by herself solely; and at other times she would vainly try to coax it out of his cold hand, but the dieing grasp was now one of iron, and her attempts evidently discomposed the departing sinner; but all was done kindly and quietly, and a flood of tears would every now and then stream down her cheeks, as she failed in her endeavours, or as the murmured, gasped name, Agatha, reached her ear.
Ata flung herself on her knees before him, and clasped his legs with her arms and kissed them. Strickland looked at Dr. Coutras with a faint smile. "In the end they get you, and you are helpless in their hands. White or brown, they are all the same." Dr. Coutras felt that it was absurd to offer expressions of regret in so terrible a disaster, and he took his leave.
He appreciated the motives which had caused her to refuse him, but he hoped that by his continued persuasion he might be able, as he put it to himself, to talk her round. Her very flight from him, for such he believed her absence to be, seemed to indicate that she herself was doubtful of her power to hold out against him, and to this extent he drew comfort from his immediate difficulty.
The old woman in Lancaster Gate had not been capable either of talking or thinking about herself, except as a fretful animal with certain simple bodily wants.
The lady closed and locked the chamber door; then placing two chairs before the fire, she seated herself in one, and requested Frank to occupy the other.
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