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Inge's descendants would seem to have inherited the genius of their ancestor, for they prosper and their worldly goods increase. They are a money-making race. In all times, out of all things, by all means, they make money. They fight for money, marry for money, live for money, are ready to die for money.
Barring her obscure birth, Edna is as worthy of Gordon as any dainty pet of fashion who lounges in Clara Inge's parlors, and I shall take occasion to tell her so if ever she hints at 'mesalliance' in my presence." "In that event she will doubtless retort by asking you in her bland and thoroughly well-bred style, whether you intend to give your consent to Edna's marriage with my cousin, St. Elmo?"
Inge's. You need not trouble yourself to decline, for I shall arrange matters with Mrs. Murray. In honor of my birthday will you not give me a sprig of something sweet from your basket?" They sat down on the steps of the dining-room, and Edna selected some delicate oxalis cups and nutmeg geranium leaves, which she tied up, and handed to her companion.
The bard tells us what he saw there: "It was the good Sir Asker Ryg; Right merrily laughed he, When from that green and swelling hill Two towers did he see." Two sons lay at the Lady Inge's breast, and all was well. "The first one of the brothers two They called him Esbern Snare. He grew as strong as a savage bear And fleeter than any hare.
He would perfectly agree with Dr. Inge's characteristic statement, "The suggestion that in prayer we only hear the echo of our own voices is ridiculous to anyone who has prayed"; but he is, I think, much more aware of the power and extent of this suggestion than is the Dean of St. Paul's, and therefore qualifies himself to meet the psychologists on their own ground.
"To send a messenger to your mother, acquainting her with your arrival. She would not forgive me if I failed to give her such good tidings at the very earliest moment." "You will do no such thing. I forbid any message. She thinks me in the midst of Persian ruins, and can afford to wait an hour longer among her friends. How happened it that you also are not at Mrs. Inge's?"
It would take too much time to describe the various tortures these people suffered, but Inge's punishment consisted in standing there as a statue, with her foot fastened to the loaf.
Mamma and I met him at Mrs. Inge's. Mr. Inge had some gentlemen to dinner, and they came into the parlor while we were calling. Mr. Murray sat down and talked to me then for some time, and I have frequently met him since; for it seems he loves to stroll about the woods almost as well as I do, and sometimes we walk together.
Farther along were works by Lowes Dickinson and Professor William James, Bowden's "The Imitation of Buddha" and Inge's "Christian Mysticism." At the end of the shelf, bound in white vellum, was Don Lorenzo Scupoli's "The Spiritual Combat." A drawer shut, and Mailing turned about to take the cigar which Mr. Harding offered him. "The light is rather strong, don't you think?" Mr.
And these words penetrated to Ingé's inmost heart, and seemed to do her good. It was the first time any one had said, "Poor Ingé," without adding anything about her faults: a little innocent child was weeping and praying for mercy for her. It made her feel quite strangely, and she herself would gladly have wept, but she could not weep, and that was a torment in itself.
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