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I admit that Miss Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out polished members of society. But there's been more than that." "The Preacher himself?" I suggested. The Skeptic looked at me.
Senor Mendoza has obtained the concession from the government to hunt for it on a large scale in the big mounds about Truxillo. We know it is there. Is not that enough?" If it had been any one less than Whitney, we should probably have said it was not. But it took more than that to deny anything he asserted. Lockwood's face was a study.
'Countess Narona, Francis resumed, 'if your object in claiming my acquaintance is to mystify me, you have come to the wrong man. Speak plainly, or permit me to wish you good evening. 'If your object is to keep Miss Lockwood's arrival in Venice a secret, she retorted, 'speak plainly, Mr. Westwick, on your side, and say so. Her intention was evidently to irritate him; and she succeeded.
"Some one got in during the daytime and hid there until the place was locked. That is the print of Alfonso de Moche's shoe, that of Mr. Whitney's, and that of Mr. Lockwood's." He said it quickly, as though trying to gloss it over. But she would not have it that way. She felt stronger, and she was going to see just what there was there.
Lockwood at Wuthering Heights is Jane Eyre at Thornton Hall; Heathcliff appearing at Lockwood's bedside, besides being M. Héger and Rochester, is Rochester's mad wife. Heathcliff returning to Catherine is Jane returning to Rochester, and so on.
Where did it come from? Could she be in the room? "Chester is that you?" "Yes, Inez. Where are you?" "I ran up here in this attic when I heard the shots." "Come down, then. All is right, now." She came down a half ladder, half flight of steps. At the foot she paused just a moment and hesitated. Then, like a frightened bird, she flew to the safety of Lockwood's arms. "Mr.
It seemed distasteful, only in a lesser degree than Lockwood's. "We do not need to be exploited," he ventured. "My belief is that we should not attract capital in order to take things out of the country. If we might keep our own earnings and transform them into capital, it would be better. That is why I am doing what I am at the University."
Not only has Lockwood to tell of things he could not possibly have heard and seen, but sometimes you get scene within vivid scene, dialogue within dialogue, and tale within tale, four deep. Sometimes you are carried back in a time and sometimes forward. You have to think hard before you know for certain whose wife Catherine Heathcliff really is. You cannot get over Lockwood's original mistake.
Silas's eyes glistened. Lockwood's criticism had gone over his head; he was accustomed to that sort of thing. What pleased him was the interest O'Day had shown in his pet subject the sufferings of the poor being one of his lifelong topics of thought and conversation. "The confessional happened next," replied Silas.
"I told you pretty well everything across the telephone. I think it's a case of everybody having got the wind up Phyllis particularly. Mrs. Lockwood's a very restful woman. I should call her a man's woman. She's bright and entertaining and pretty, and she owns a charming little house. She had no responsibilities, so she's free to entertain from morning till night.
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