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Updated: June 3, 2025
"I sur ug-g-gh! er render," gurgled the long-legged one, weakly. "You'd better, unless you want to discover that we haven't yet started in with rough handling," retorted Eph valiantly. Young Benson eased his hold on Millard's wind-pipe. Yet all three of the submarine boys watched their prisoner, cat-like, for any new outbreak.
Phillida had revered the woman before her as a sort of divine messenger, had defended her against Millard's aspersions, had followed her counsel at the most critical moment of her life in opposition to the judgment of her family and of the man she loved. And now, too late, the strenuous exhortation was retracted, not so much in the interest of a breaking heart as in that of a good settlement.
I am going to Texas to Austin. Suppose you and Harry go with me. We will give Phyllis a surprise." "But housekeepers don't like surprises, Richard." "Then we will write before leaving, but I doubt if the letter will be in advance of us." It was not. John Millard's home was a couple of miles distant from Austin, and the mail was not gone for with any regularity.
I gathered from the look of disgust on Millard's face that he wanted to get Shirley out of the set before Kennedy should observe the heavy man's odd reaction to the tragedy. While I had never seen Millard and Shirley together, so as to establish in mind the state of their feelings toward each other, this would seem to indicate that they were friendly.
During the reading of the service I could not change my position, turn my head, or brush the flies that got upon my face, without those six hands back of me pouncing down for their instruments. It was impossible to sing the chants, as the string instruments could not hold the tones, so anthems were used instead mostly Millard's and they were very beautiful.
Half a mile distant from it they met a boy about seven years old on a mustang, and Richard asked him if he could direct him to Captain Millard's house. "I reckon so," said the little chap, with a laugh. "I generally stop there, if I'm not on horseback." "O, indeed! What is your name?" "My name is Richard Millard. What's your name, sir?"
Phillida was a little startled at Mrs. Hilbrough's assumption that she knew the exact state of Millard's feelings. "Have you seen him lately?" she asked. "Yes; he called here after four o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and he spoke most affectionately of you. I'm sorry you must go so soon. Come and spend a day with me some time, and I'll have Mr. Millard take dinner with us."
VICTOR HARRIS, Op. 16, No. 3. Oh! threats of Hell and hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain This Life flies, One thing is certain, and the rest is Lies! The Flower that once has blown for ever, for ever dies. A later song, "My Guest," shows an increase in elaboration, but follows the florid school of Harrison Millard's once so popular rhapsody, "Waiting."
His expression became almost ludicrous, as if the thought that he could possibly be suspected himself was new to him. Millard's eyes sobered a bit at his superior's confusion. "There's a door from the dressing rooms," Kennedy suggested. "Any of the actors or actresses could have used the place." "Of course!" Manton grasped at the straw. "I had forgotten.
Hilbrough with inquiries," Mrs. Callender read from the card as she arranged the flowers in a vase on the low marble table under the pier-glass. "Mrs. Hilbrough?" said Phillida with a feeling of disappointment. "But that was Charley Millard's man." "No, that is the man Mrs. Hilbrough has sent ever since you were taken ill," said the mother. "He speaks in a peculiar English way; did you hear him?
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