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Updated: June 15, 2025
We had set them down as too old, grave, and wise, for at least the preliminary stages. And although it is not an unnatural thing that Ellesmere should have got over his affection for the German Gretchen, whose story is so exquisitely told in the Companions of my Solitude, we find it harder to reconcile Milverton's marriage with our previous impression of him.
She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt front. He shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing furiously and clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled upon the floor. "You've done me," he cried, and lay still.
What needs be seen of them individually will be by their words, which I hope I have in the main retained. The place where we generally met in fine weather was on the lawn before Milverton's house. It was an eminence which commanded a series of valleys sloping towards the sea.
I beg, therefore, that you will moderate your demands, and that you will return the letters at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can get." Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously. "I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources," said he.
Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat. "This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it discreet? Is it right?" "Dr. Watson is my friend and partner." "Very good, Mr. Holmes.
The closing chapter of the book is on The Need for Tolerance. It contains a host of thoughts which we should be glad to extract; but we must be content with a wise saying of Milverton's: For a man who has been rigidly good to be supremely tolerant, would require an amount of insight which seems to belong only to the greatest genius.
When she was tired, she flung herself into Miss Milverton's brown leather chair, and looked up at the clock, which had gone soberly on its way as though nothing were to be changed in Anna's life. She felt provoked with its placid face.
Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's smile broadened, he shrugged his shoulders removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat. "This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it discreet? Is it right?" "Dr. Watson is my friend and partner." "Very good, Mr. Holmes.
Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house to-night." I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the words, which were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated resolution.
She went restlessly up to her bedroom, seeking she hardly knew what. Her eye fell on the little brown case, long unopened, which held her mother's portrait. Words, long unthought of, came back to her as she looked at it. "If you are half as good and beautiful," her father had said; and on the same day what had been Miss Milverton's last warning? "Try to value the best things."
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