United States or Tanzania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Those dogs! oh! get out! get down, sir!" "They will not hurt you," said Sibyl, coming to the rescue. "Grip, be quiet! Pete get down, sir! You are not going, Mr. Marr?" "I think, yes, I think I will," said the discomfited poet; "it is getting late. I was on the point of making my adieu when, when the children played their little joke. Ha! ha! really, a very good joke. Quite amusing!
She had never had anything other girls had: friends, dresses, beaus, and it was all Louisa's fault Louisa who was going to make her wear a bonnet for the rest of her life. The more Mary Isabel thought of that bonnet the more she hated it. That evening Warren Marr rode down to the shore cottage on horseback and handed Mary Isabel a letter; a strange, scrumpled, soiled, yellow letter.
"Do you?" he said. "I wonder if you would like to know me? Do you remember Marr?" The lady of the feathers turned cold. "Marr!" she faltered; "what of him?" "You have not forgotten him." "He's dead!" A pause. "He's dead, I say." "Exactly! As dead as a strong man who has lived long in the world ever can be." "What d'you mean? I say he's dead and buried and done with."
I'm learning some sense now; I'm getting to own quite a mess of property; I'm going to be married soon; and I don't want to fight anyone. Besides, quite apart from my own interests, other men will be drawn into it if I shoot it out with Marr. No knowing where it will stop. No, sir; I'll go punch cows till Marr quiets down. Maybe it's just the whisky talking.
Those who have perused the curious Letters from the Highlands, published about 1726, will find instances of such atrocious characters which fell under the writer's own observation, though it would be most unjust to consider such villains as representatives of the Highlanders of that period, any more than the murderers of Marr and Williamson can be supposed to represent the English of the present day.
"Yes." "Startling bit of news to-night, wasn't it? Damned sudden!" Julian looked puzzled. "What is Lady Crichton ill, then?" "Lady Crichton! No. I meant about that poor fellow, Marr." Julian swung round in his seat and regarded the man full in the face. "Marr! Why, what is it? Has he had an accident?"
A brook went with us part of the way, singing to us through the dark a gay, irresponsible vagabond of valley and wilderness. Felicity and Peter walked not with us. Peter's cup must surely have brimmed over that Christmas night. When we left the Marr house, he had boldly said to Felicity, "May I see you home?" And Felicity, much to our amazement, had taken his arm and marched off with him.
"Let me tell you, Hugh Warrington, that if Sibyl likes anybody, it is Mr. Leslie," returned Bessie emphatically. "When did you discover that, Brownie?" "I have always suspected it, but to-night I saw it plainly," replied Bessie. "To-night! Why, she was with Marr all the time!" "Men are as blind as bats," said Bessie scornfully; "good-night."
Then he started and almost exclaimed aloud. For there, at the end of the mantelpiece, was a cabinet photograph of Marr. He was right then in his suspicion. The lady of the feathers was also the lady at the "European." "Sorry to keep you waiting," said a voice behind him. There was a clatter of crockery.
"You read De Quincey's account of the Marr murders in London, and you will see that the more public the place the less risk there is of detection. There was nothing about the gentleman in the light coat who murdered Whyte to excite Royston's suspicions. He entered the cab with Whyte; no noise or anything likely to attract attention was heard, and then he alighted.
Word Of The Day