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Heatherlegh, the Doctor, kept, in addition to his regular practice, a hospital on his private account an arrangement of loose-boxes for Incurables, his friends called it but it was really a sort of fitting-up shed for craft that had been damaged by stress of weather.
He would have withdrawn his hand from his brother-in-law's arm, but Jake retained it there forcibly, steering for his own private office at the end of the stable-yard. Bunny submitted, but his face grew ominously dark as they passed in silence between the long rows of loose-boxes in the soft spring twilight.
Behind the house, on a spare allotment, were two or three loose-boxes for racehorses, a saddle-room and a groom's room. This was the whole establishment. A woman came in every day to do up his rooms from the hotel, where he had his meals.
The horses moved restlessly in their loose-boxes, but there was no bustle of shirt-sleeved urchins with buckets and pitchforks mucking them out. For it was Sunday morning, and the lads were elsewhere. Arrayed on the long-backed roofs the fan-tails sidled, cooed, and blinked in the sun.
There was an arrangement of loose-boxes in kanats, and she was in the next one talking to him. 'Which? How? Explain. 'You know what I mean The Dowd and The Dancing Master. We could hear every word, and we listened shamelessly 'specially the Hawley Boy. Polly, I quite love that woman! 'This is interesting. There! Now turn round. What happened? 'One moment. Ah h! Blessed relief.
"Rich is not the word, sir. He has more money than he knows what to do with. Why, he has twenty horses now, and is building loose-boxes for ten more, and he won't look at one under a hundred pounds. Rawlings has got a fine place, he has that." "I am surprised he should have left the kennels, though. He loses his chance of ever becoming huntsman." "He is as good as that now, sir.
For the inside of a week the Fujinami dwelt in one of a row of stalls, like loose-boxes, within the temple precincts. The festival might have some affinity with the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles, when the devout left their city dwellings to live in booths outside the walls.
A bullet-headed boy is rubbing pewter pots at the door. Mrs. Mason, comfortably somnolent at the entrance of the little kitchen, watches her daughter comely, grave- faced Annie Mason "our Annie," as she is called, who is already folding the table-cloths. A few belated customers linger in the partitioned loose-boxes which lend a certain small privacy to the tables, and often save a fight.
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