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Updated: May 3, 2025
It would not, for instance, be supposed, that at the time he is favouring us with the highly-wrought account of his amour with the adorable Peggie, the Chevalier Johnstone was a married man, whose grandchild is now alive, or that the whole circumstantial story concerning the outrageous vengeance taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a Presbyterian clergyman, is entirely apocryphal.
Halfpenny, with warmth, "about which we must speak in public such a public, at any rate, as is represented here and now. You know what it is your uncle's will!" "What about my uncle's will or alleged will?" asked Barthorpe with a sneer. Mr. Halfpenny appeared to be about to make a very angry retort, but he suddenly checked himself and looked at Peggie. "You hear, my dear?" he said.
Considering that he had fully performed his duty, he said no more. That evening, Sylvia, who had been gently thrumming to herself at the window, began singing "Bonnie Peggie Alison." Her father looked at De Courcy, who caught his glance, then lowered his eyes, and turned to leave the room.
I'll go and report progress on that, anyway." He put Peggie into her car to go home, and himself hailed a taxi-cab and drove straight to Mr. Halfpenny's office, where Professor Cox-Raythwaite and Mr. Tertius had arranged to meet him. The three elderly gentlemen, seated in Mr. Halfpenny's private room, listened with intense, if silent, interest to Selwood's account of the interview with Barthorpe.
Tertius with a startled eye and twitching lips. "You you say there is a will!" he exclaimed. "You say what do you know about it?" "When it was made, where it was made, where it now is," answered Mr. Tertius. "Where it now is!" repeated Barthorpe. "Where it now is! And where is it, I should like to know?" Mr. Tertius, who had gone up to Peggie, laid his hand reassuringly on her arm.
On the other hand we find three somewhat similar ballads, Lizie Lindsay or Donald of the Isles, Lizie Baillie, and Glasgow Peggie, recording the elopement of a town girl with a highland gentleman in the disguise of a shepherd. These are obviously late, though a certain resemblance in style with Johnie Faa makes it possible that they are as old as the middle of the seventeenth century.
But Peggie realized that such questions were useless at that time that time was pre-eminently one of action. She put the letter back in the rosewood box, took the box in her arms, and carrying it off to her own room, locked it up in a place of security. And that had scarcely been done when Kitteridge came seeking her and bringing with him a card: Mr.
It would not, for instance, be supposed that at the time he is favouring us with the highly wrought account of his amour with the adorable Peggie, the Chevalier Johnstone was a married man, whose grandchild is now alive; or that the whole circumstantial story concerning the outrageous vengeance taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a Presbyterian clergyman is entirely apocryphal.
Do you know of anything, any difference between them, anything at all which would make your uncle leave his nephew out of his will?" "Nothing!" answered Peggie. "And I'm very troubled about it. Does it really mean that I get everything, and Barthorpe nothing?" "That is the precise state of affairs," answered Mr. Halfpenny.
"We must understand matters at once," he said. "There is no use in beating about the bush. He has refused to meet or receive me so far now I shall insist upon his saying plainly whatever he has to say. You, too, my dear, painful as it may be, must also insist." "On what?" asked Peggie. "On his saying what he intends if he intends I don't know what he intends!" answered Mr. Halfpenny, testily.
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