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Updated: May 6, 2025
You can do the job if you're any good." After McGregor's speech the woman sat in silence and looked at him. For the first time she had met a man who overwhelmed her and was in no way diverted by her beauty nor her self possession. A hot wave, half anger, half admiration, swept over her. McGregor stared at the woman and waited. "I've got to have facts," he said.
The shell, a four inch high explosive, tore a couple of sandbags out of the back window, and as it apparently had a "delay action" fuse it burst fairly in the middle of the room. There was nothing left of Captain McGregor's cot but a pile of woollen shreds. His trunk and the clothing hanging on the wall were ripped to pieces.
I was not afraid to give you up and I'm not afraid that I shall die bearing children." Dropping McGregor's arm Edith ran across the room and stood before Margaret. "How do you know you are more beautiful or can bear more beautiful children?" she demanded. "What do you mean by beauty anyway? I deny your beauty." She turned to McGregor. "Look," she cried, "she does not stand the test."
When Stuart left Gettysburg, as he says about noon, he took with him Chambliss's and Jenkins's brigades of cavalry and Griffin's battery. Hampton and FitZhugh Lee were to follow; also Breathed's and McGregor's batteries, as soon as the latter had replenished their ammunition chests.
The shell made pulp out of McGregor's clothes and belongings, but Perry was not scratched, although not ten feet away from where the shell burst. At Hill 60 he assisted the British engineer to run several mines under the German trenches.
They rested a day in Milan, another in Paris, and there Sedgwick arranged to have the bullion that might come from the 'Wedge of Gold' at all times at his immediate disposal. They reached London in six days; Jordan had gained so much that he walked to the carriage from the Dover depot, and with Sedgwick's and McGregor's support, walked up the steps of Sedgwick's house.
Their course took them past the bank, and as Mr. McGregor was standing on the steps of the side entrance, he accosted them heartily. "Why, how do you do, gentlemen?" he asked. "Won't you walk in for a few minutes? I havn't seen you since your illness, Mr. Drysdale; won't you come in and rest a while?" On hearing McGregor's salutation, Drysdale started as if stung, and trembled violently.
McGregor's heart pounded and his mouth felt dry and unpleasant. He wondered what he should say and how he should say it when he came into the presence of the woman. He wished there were some one to be hit with his fist. He didn't want to make love, he wanted relief. He would have much preferred a fight.
There was a schoolboy in the Late Miss McGregor's Cottage, home from the holidays, and much in want of 'something craggy to break his mind upon. He had no thought of literature; it was the art of Raphael that received his fleeting suffrages; and with the aid of pen and ink and a shilling box of water colours, he had soon turned one of the rooms into a picture gallery.
You are made to endure. You would get over anything and be cheerful after a while. You know that don't you?" The eyes of Edith came up level with his own. "Yes I know," she said. Margaret Ormsby jumped up from her chair, her eyes swimming. "Stop," she cried. "I do not want you. I would never marry you now. You belong to her. You are Edith's." McGregor's voice became soft and quiet.
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