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In O'Grady's writings the submerged river of national culture rose up again, a shining torrent, and I realized as I bathed in that stream, that the greatest spiritual evil one nation could inflict on another was to cut off from it the story of the national soul.
The truth was, the moment Furlong had no longer the terrors of O'Grady's pistol before his eyes, he had resolved never to take so bad a match as that with Augusta appeared to be indeed was, as far as regarded money; though Furlong should only have been too glad to be permitted to mix his plebeian blood with the daughter of a man of high family, whose crippled circumstances and consequent truckling conduct had reduced him to the wretched necessity of making such a cur as Furlong the inmate of his house.
Preciosa, thanks to O'Grady's chatterings through the Temple of Art he blew in and out with great freedom and was as much at home there as in the humbler establishment had come to some knowledge of Ignace Prochnow.
"I must have a breath of fresh air, Terence," he said. "The heat is stifling in there, and though we are working in our shirt-sleeves we are just as damp as if we had been thrown into a pond." "Has O'Grady's arm been seared?" "Yes, and he stood it well; not a word did he say until it was over.
"By the way," he said, "before we go on with the unveiling of the statue would you mind telling me this: Have you got an ear for music?" Lord Alfred had recovered a little from the bewildering effect of Dr. O'Grady's argument. He reminded himself that he had a duty to perform.
Their canoe shot out until it was within a dozen yards of the other, and those ashore saw him laugh into O'Grady's sullen, set face. He was cool. Between smiling lips his white teeth gleamed, and the women stared with brighter eyes and flushed cheeks, wondering how Marie Cummins could have given up this man for the giant hulk and drink-reddened face of his rival.
There are critics repelled by the abounding energy in O'Grady's sentences. It is easy to point to faults due to excess and abundance, but how rare in literature is that heroic energy and power. There is something arcane and elemental in it, a quality that the most careful stylist cannot attain, however he uses the file, however subtle he is.
He might paste you one." Polly complied. She sprang up the stairs with a freedom of motion that won O'Grady's silent admiration. "Some action!" he commented. "Takes them stairs as easy as a pussy-cat goes up a tree. Some girl that! Old Scotty's jealous of the greaser do him good he's gettin' to be a regular old settin' hen. Hope she shakes him up a bit."
But don't let us waste our time talking about vocations. I hear enough of that here. I want you to tell me about the music-mistress; that's what interests me. And when Father Oliver had told her the whole story and showed her Father O'Grady's letter, she said: 'You know I always thought you were a little hard on Miss Glynn. Father O'Grady's letter convinces me that you were.
Churchill noticed that the groom's nose was perfectly white, and on examination it was found to be frozen; they accordingly set to work to rub it with snow, and at Captain O'Grady's suggestion he held a large body of snow to it for the remainder of the journey, which had the effect of thawing it out.
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