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Updated: June 17, 2025
The frown which had been gathering latterly on Mr. Neal's face deepened and darkened. He looked at the doctor as if the doctor had personally offended him. "The more I think of the position you are asking me to take," he said, "the less I like it. Can you undertake to say positively that Mr. Armadale is in his right mind?" "Yes; as positively as words can say it."
But nobody was in a hurry to obey the summons to bed. While hands and feet were being stretched out to the sizzling birch logs for a final toast, Royal Sinclair, who had a trick of speaking very quickly, with a slight click in his utterance, as if his tongue struck his teeth, began to pour some communications into Neal's ear in rapid dashes of talk,
Most folks is skeered o' trying it," drawled out Ebenezer Grout, a professional guide as well as "colored gen'leman," familiarly called by visitors to this region who hired the use of his hut and his services, "Uncle Eb." "There's some comfort for you," whispered Cyrus slyly into Neal's ear. Aloud he said, addressing the guide, "We had a spill-out, too, as a crown-all.
On November 18 he arrived in Dublin, and opened his season at Neal's new music-hall in Fishamble Street on December 23 with a performance of L'Allegro, interspersed with concertos. A few days later he wrote a long letter to Jennens describing the unprecedented success which he had enjoyed.
Then in a lower tone, "That romance of yours now how is it coming?" That was enough to cause the young man to pour into Mr. Neal's willing ear all the latest developments of Bob's acquaintance with the only girl in the world. For a long time Mr. Neal lived in daily hope of seeing the face again.
Herb and the Farrars responded to it with heart-eager "Amens!" the fervor of which was new to their lips. "I thank you as if he were my own brother, boys," said the woodsman, while he filled in the grave, and planted Neal's cross at its head.
"Somebody's going to make a living off the great American sucker. If it wasn't us, it'd be somebody else." He paused, sighed, and in a phrase summed up and crystallized the whole philosophy of the medical quack: "Life's a cut-throat game, anyway." "And we're living on the blood," said Hal. "It's a good thing," he added slowly, "that I didn't know you as you are before Milly Neal's death."
Therefore Plonny Neal's passionate earnestness surprised him, and Plonny's reasoning, which he knew to be the reasoning of the thoroughly informed State leaders, impressed him very decidedly. Of the boss's sincerity he never entertained a doubt; to question that candid eye was impossible. That Plonny had long been watching him with interest and admiration, West knew very well.
"My head isn't very good. I've been ill, you know." "You let him off without telling his name to-night. And that made me think maybe he wasn't in wrong so far as I thought. Maybe there were what-ye-call-'em? mitigating circumstances. Were there?" A light broke in upon the Reverend Norman Hale. "Did you think your son was Milly Neal's lover? He wasn't." "Are you sure?" gasped the father.
Neal's eyes wavered and dropped before this earnest scrutiny, which seemed to read his very thoughts. "God bless you and keep you, my boy," said James Hope. "You are the son of a brave man. I doubt not that you will be a brave man, too, brave in a good cause." Donald Ward seemed a little impatient at this long scrutiny of Neal and the speech which followed.
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