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Updated: May 12, 2025
Van Decken asked him to come and see her portrait." "You and he can have very little in common," observed Nan carelessly. "Nothing" promptly "except the links of art. I've always been true in my art if in nothing else. Besides, all's grist that comes to Mallory's mill. He regards me as a type. Ah!" as the door opened once more "here they come."
The losses at Mallory's Crossroads were very heavy on both sides. The character of the fighting, together with the day's results, demonstrated that it was impossible to make the passage of the North Anna at Mallory's ford without venturing another battle the next day.
They read Spenser and Chaucer, and chance threw in their way a dog-eared copy of Mallory's "Morte d' Arthur," and this was still more dog-eared when they were through with it. The influence of Burne-Jones on Morris was marked, and the influence of Morris on Burne-Jones was profound.
Holding that burningly bright gaze with his own steady one, he answered quietly: "I am Peter. They said you wanted me, so of course I came. You knew I would." "Peter? Peter?" she whispered. Then, shaking her head: "No. You can't be Peter. He's dead, I think. . . . I know he went away somewhere right away from me." Mallory's arms closed firmly round her and she yielded passively to his embrace.
The first families on the mesa were those of John H. Pomeroy, Theodore Sirrine and Chas. H. Mallory. The Mallory and Sirrine homes quickly were started. Mallory's, the first adobe, was torn down early in 1921. By the end of November, 1878, all the families had moved from the river camp upon the new townsite.
She was a wonderful accompanist rarest of gifts and when, at the end of the song, the restrained, well-bred applause broke out, Peter Mallory's share of it was offered as much to the accompanist as to the singers themselves. "Stay where you are, Nan," cried Kitty, as the girl half rose from the music-seat. "Stay where you are and play us something."
From the moment of Mallory's departure she had flung herself with zest into each day's amusement behaving precisely as though she hadn't a care in life playing about with Sandy, and flirting so exasperatingly with Roger that, although she wore his ring, within himself he never felt quite sure of her.
About twenty men had got out of the C. & S.C. train when the volley was fired, and the celerity with which they scattered brought another cheer from Mallory's men intrenched in the cut. Some of the fugitives scurried to the woods, while others struggled back into the cars. The shots had been heard inside the cars, and the rush to get out of them was succeeded by the impulse to lie down.
The losses at Mallory's Crossroads were very heavy on both sides. The character of the fighting, together with the day's results, demonstrated that it was impossible to make the passage of the North Anna at Mallory's ford without venturing another battle the next day.
Suppose I gets the run next week, could I win another head office boy job by spielin' off a mess of guff about a lot of dead ones? Nit, never! But Mallory's got the bug that it'll all come in handy to me sometime, and I'm doin' it just to keep him satisfied. We get together most every night in his room, and I has to cough up what I've got next to durin' the day.
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