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"For what purpose did you come to the Castle of Machecoul?" "I came," said Laurence, coolly, "to take service with you, my lord. And because I was tired of monk rule, and getting only the husks of life, tired too of sitting dumb and watching others eat the kernel." "Ha!" cried Gilles de Retz, "I am with you there. There is, after all, some harmony between our immortal parts.
Inglesby's managed to gain considerable ground, thanks to Hunter, and folks say if it wasn't for Eustis he'd win. As it is, he'll be swamped. I hear he was thunderstruck when he got wind of what Mayne was going to play against him for he knows Laurence brought Eustis out. Inglesby's mighty sore. He's the sort that hates to have to admit he can't get what he wants."
And as Laurence MacKim, crouched in the dim obscurity of the curtained doorway, looked forth, this is what he saw. Maud Lindesay and Margaret Douglas advanced into the centre of the temple where was a slab of white marble let into the floor.
I have seen a full-length portrait of him, representing him in a splendid scarlet uniform, standing before the walls of Louisburg, while several bombs are falling through the air." "But did the country gain any real good by the conquest of Louisburg?" asked Laurence. "Or was all the benefit reaped by Pepperell and Shirley?"
This idiot, we were going to say, looked back upon that deadly, monotonous, starved, dusty, flea-bitten coach-ride of three days and two nights as a species of Elysium, and in the result was perennially importuning Laurence to take a stroll down to Booyseus, "Just for a constitutional, you know." And the latter would laugh, and good-naturedly acquiesce.
'Thank you, Maginnis, said he, dignified as the President. 'It's an honest fact that I gave up the chase because I felt all along that you two fellows couldn't possibly be mixed up in anything underhanded. Aha! thinks me to myself ... Eh, Laurence?" "Just exactly." "Well, cheer up. It's done every day by our best families.
"But I assure you, Charley, that neither Captain Church, nor any of the officers and soldiers who fought in King Philip’s war, did any thing a thousandth part so glorious, as Mr. Eliot did, when he translated the Bible for the Indians." "Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley to himself, "and I will be the captain."
Some time in May, accordingly, or early in June, while the siege of Oxford was in progress, he caused his servant, or agent, Laurence Farre, to take formal possession of the Forest-hill premises. At the date of the surrender of Oxford, therefore, Mr. Powell was no longer owner of the Forest-hill manor and mansion; they belonged to his neighbour, Sir Robert Pye.
Behind him Laurence chuckled and laughed, smiting his thigh in his mocking glee. "The purple velvet, mind you, Sholto! How well it will become you, coft from Rob Halliburton, our mother's own brother, seamed with red gold and lined with yellow satin and cramosie.
You see there was not much to correct. He worked on the drawing for some few minutes, and then getting up he said, 'But you'll want some lunch; it is one o'clock. There's a refreshment room downstairs. Let me introduce you to Miss Laurence, he said. The women bowed. 'You're doing an excellent copy, Miss Laurence. 'Praise from you is praise indeed.
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