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Updated: June 23, 2025
Again he forbore question or comment. "Well well! we must look you up, Mrs. Sewell and I. We must come to see your the lady." He found himself falling helplessly into Lemuel's way of describing her. "Just write me your address here," he put a scrap of paper before Lemuel on the davenport, "and I'll go and get you the money."
One of the girls, whom he had seen the day before in the Common, turned upon Lemuel as he passed, and said, "There goes my young man now! Good evening, Johnny!" It made Lemuel's cheek burn; he would have liked to box her ears for her. The fellows all set up a laugh.
Sewell knew about them all made him sometimes hate the minister, till he reflected that he had evidently told no one of them. But he was always trembling lest they should somehow become known at the St. Albans; and when Berry was going on about himself, his exploits, his escapes, his loves, chiefly his loves, Lemuel's soul was sealed within him; a vision of his disgraces filled him with horror.
His voice was high compared to Uncle Lemuel's, besides he didn't know so much, not even about the Bible, though grandpa hadn't read anything else for 50 years except the prohibition paper. Well, of course grandpa gave up to him the sayin' of grace, and Uncle Lemuel said it in a voice that made the dishes kind of tremble, just like low thunder, and we all looked down, except me.
He wrung Lemuel's hand again, this time in perfect sincerity, and eagerly shut him out into the night. The dim place had not become so luminous to him as it had to the minister. A darkness, which the obscurity of the night faintly typified, closed round him, pierced by one ray only, and from this he tried to turn his face.
Whether it was Lemuel's perception of this that kept him silent, or his confusion of spirit from all the late rapidly successive events, or a wish not to inculpate the girl who had insulted him, he remained silent. "Answer me!" said Miss Vane sharply. Lemuel cleared his throat. "I don't know as I've got anything to say," he answered finally.
Chambermaids and table-girls kicked, but they were replaced by Lemuel, who went himself to the intelligence office, and pledged the new ones to his rule beforehand. There was even some kicking among the guests, who objected to the new portions, and to having a second bill sent them if the first remained unpaid for a week; but the general sense of the hotel was in Lemuel's favour.
But all the arrests before seven o'clock sent to the City Prison. Only keep them that come in afterwards." One of the gentlemen looked into the cell opposite Lemuel's. "There seems to be only one bunk. Do you ever put more into a cell?" "Well, hardly ever, if they're men. Lot o' women brought in 'most always ask to be locked up together for company."
Geraint, the novelist, took me down to dinner at Mrs. Lemuel's last night, and he told me that the only thing that will make people buy books is seeing the author's portrait in some of the illustrated papers, or hearing from some of the interviews which are published regarding him that he never could take sugar in his coffee.
He was helpless; but in the open air he caught his breath more fully, and at last could tremulously find his way out of the sympathetic crowd. "Get a carriage," she said to Lemuel; and then she added, as it drove up and she gave an address, "I can manage him now." Evans weakly pressed Lemuel's hand from the seat to which he had helped him, and the hack drove away.
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