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If they hadn't gone to that studio party at Moira Morrison's if Moira Morrison hadn't said as they were leaving, "I'm going to rescue your wife, selfish man. She's like an exquisite little Titania" if Isabel hadn't gone with Moira to Paris if if... The train stopped at another station. Bettingford. Good heavens! They'd be there in ten minutes.
The man in the crowd yelped again, encouraged by his distance and by Morrison's passivity under attack. "You think you own a mill. Your honest workmen own it. You are a thief!" "My Gawd!" Lanigan squawked, hoarsely. "Ain't it in you? Ain't a spark of it in you?" Morrison delivered sharp retort in an undertone. "Don't you know better than to tangle my lines when I'm playing a fish? Shut up!"
And Hazel went back to her machine, wondering why she had been requested to do those letters when Nelly Morrison had nothing better to do than sit picking at her type faces with a toothpick. She learned the significance of it the next morning, however, when the office boy told her that she was wanted by Mr. Bush. This time when she entered Nelly Morrison's place was vacant.
Your first duty is to your husband; mine is dead, and I am of use here; but I'll come up home for a holiday in the summer when my young leddies take theirs. Then Vava stoutly announced that if nursie stayed at No. 2 Heather Road so should she; and if she had not quite meant it, for Lomore was home to her too, the gleam of joy in Mrs. Morrison's eye at the suggestion decided her.
Narkom screwed round on his heel, looked at the Belgian, and lost faith in Miss Morrison's powers of discrimination instantly. On the dressing-table stood Carboys' picture heavy-jowled, sleepy-eyed, dull-looking and on the threshold stood a man with the kindest eyes, the sweetest smile, and the handsomest and most sympathetic countenance he had seen in many a day.
"Better phone and see if she's at home. Here's the phone I'll get her." Mr. Neelands laid a restraining hand on Bertie's arm. "Easy there, my friend," he said, his tone resembling Miss Morrison's in its commanding chilliness, "How far is it to the Watson farm?" "Five miles in summer, four in winter," Bertie answered a little sulkily.
Thanks, however, to Swigger Morrison's hospitality, I readily reminded him of our former meeting, and of more that I only recalled as the words were in my mouth. "You'll remember Raffles," said I, "if you don't remember me. You showed us your trophies the other night, and asked us both to look you up at any hour of the day or night after the fight."
"No, I must see him, Katy," said Linda quietly. "And have something specially nice for dinner. Very likely I'll take him to see Peter Morrison's house and possibly I'll ask him and Peter to dinner. He is a San Francisco architect from the firm where Marian takes her lessons, and it's business about Peter's house. I was surprised, that's all."
Carlyle declares himself unable to prescribe any Morrison's Pill or other remedial measure to allay the irritation. Part of this irritation finds vent in a great cry about "legitimate ambition." Somehow, because any American may be President of the United States, almost every American feels himself bound to run for the office.
While I despatched Mike to Morrison's to provide supper, I heard from Power that Sir George Dashwood had interested himself so strongly for me that I had obtained my cornetcy in the 14th; that, fearful lest any disappointment might arise, he had never mentioned the matter to me, but that he had previously obtained my uncle's promise to concur in the arrangement if his negotiation succeeded.
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