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Updated: June 21, 2025
Were you ever at the Isles of Shoals, Mr. Flemming?" Flemming started slightly. Since Miss Denham entered the room, he had given scarcely a thought to Lynde's dismal suspicions. Once or twice they had come into Flemming's mind, but he had promptly dismissed them.
Lynde and Marilla watched them from the kitchen window. "That'll be a match some day," Mrs. Lynde said approvingly. Marilla winced slightly. In her heart she hoped it would, but it went against her grain to hear the matter spoken of in Mrs. Lynde's gossipy matter-of-fact way. "They're only children yet," she said shortly. Mrs. Lynde laughed good-naturedly.
He saw by the drawn expression of her countenance that she had not slept. "Ruth is ill," she said in a low voice, replying to Lynde's inquiry. "You do not mean very ill?" "I fear so. She has passed a dreadful night. I have had a doctor." "Is it as serious as that? What does he say?" "He says it is a severe cold, with symptoms of pneumonia; but I do not think he knows," returned Mrs.
"Then I think God is a mean old scamp," retorted Davy. "Doesn't He know a fellow must have some way of 'spressing his feelings?" "Davy!!!" said Dora. She expected that Davy would be struck down dead on the spot. But nothing happened. "Anyway, I ain't going to stand any more of Mrs. Lynde's bossing," spluttered Davy. "Anne and Marilla may have the right to boss me, but SHE hasn't.
Flemming had promised to come and take coffee with him early the next morning, that is to say at nine o'clock. Before Flemming arrived, Lynde's invitation had been despatched and accepted. He was re-reading Miss Denham's few lines of acceptance when he heard his friend, at the other end of the hall, approaching with great strides.
It was really a rather cold house; and when the frosty nights came the girls were very glad to snuggle down under Mrs. Lynde's quilts, and hoped that the loan of them might be accounted unto her for righteousness. Anne had the blue room she had coveted at sight. Priscilla and Stella had the large one.
He made a desperate fight where he could not hope for mercy, and kept himself free of his powerful foe, whom he fought round and foiled, if he could not hurt him. Jeff never knew of the blows Lynde got in upon him; he had his own science, too, but he would not employ it. He wanted to crash through Lynde's defence and lay hold of him and crush the life out of him.
Bessie looked down at it, first on one side and then on the other, as a woman always does when her dress is spoken of. "Mr. Alan said he would have his breakfast in his room, miss," murmured the butler, in husky respectfulness, as he returned to Bessie from carrying Miss Lynde's cup to her. "He don't want anything but a little toast and coffee."
"If you must know," he said, one evening, "I will tell you where I went." "Tell me, then!" "I went to Constantinople." Miss Mildred found that nearly impertinent. There was, too, an alteration in Lynde's manner which cruelly helped to pique her curiosity.
The friends had spent the gayest of evenings together at a small green-topped table in one corner of the smoky cafe. Over their beer and cheese they had chatted of old days at boarding-school and college, and this contact with the large, healthy nature of Flemming, which threw off depression as sunshine dissipates mist, had sent Lynde's vapors flying.
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