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Updated: June 20, 2025
The fact came to my knowledge in a way rather odd, but characteristic of John Splendid's anxiety to save his friends the faintest breeze of ill-tidings.
Gregory XIII. did not abandon the cause. On the receipt of all these ill-tidings he issued another Bull, highly laudatory of the virtues of James Fitzmaurice "of happy memory," and granting the same indulgence to those who would fight under John or James of Desmond, "as that which was imparted to those who fought against the Turks for the recovery of the Holy Land."
Gregory XIII. did not abandon the cause. On the receipt of all these ill-tidings he issued another Bull, highly laudatory of the virtues of James Fitzmaurice "of happy memory," and granting the same indulgence to those who would fight under John or James of Desmond, "as that which was imparted to those who fought against the Turks for the recovery of the Holy Land."
"Well, noble concierge?" inquired La Signorina. "Why, you look as if you were the bearer of ill-tidings." "Perhaps I am," said O'Mally. He tossed his cap on the stones and sat down with Smith on the iron bench. "No, no tea, thank you. What I need is a glass, a whole glass, of good Irish whisky. This thing has been on my mind since noon, but I concluded to wait rather than spoil the whole day.
Art thou, then, the bearer of ill-tidings to me? Is my safety jeopardised, or what? Tell me, Everard, let me know it all. I have done no man evil that I wot of unless in these evil days it be wrong to visit the sick and the afflicted; but I am ready for aught, even though it were instant death." "Nay, Nicholas," returned his friend, "thou art in a gloomy strain.
She was rather sorry she had chanced to come upon this day of ill-tidings. "Of course she will come here?" she asked Henriette. "Where else can she go?" "Will your father go after her in the automobile?" "What?" gasped Henriette. "That is of the devil's concoction, so thinks poor Aunt Abelard. She will not ride in it. And my father is busy.
"You can begin to eat," said Nanon, coming downstairs four steps at a time; "the young one is sleeping like a cherub. Isn't he a darling with his eyes shut? I went in and I called him: no answer." "Let him sleep," said Grandet; "he'll wake soon enough to hear ill-tidings."
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