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Updated: June 15, 2025
And it's all so much fluff and wind, signifying nothing, nothing at all unless it's fear; fear, again, their everlasting haunting spectre; fear of the other person's being offended if he is stronger than you, higher up, because then he'll hurt you, punish you somehow; ten to one, if you're a man, he'll fight you.
If she had been dressed in silk, and lace, and embroidery, I doubt not people would have called her pretty, though in my opinion it does not make much difference whether she was pretty or not; for, after all, the best way to judge of a person's beauty is by the old standard, "Handsome is that handsome does."
So, while the rest of the world were booted or heavy shod, his silk-stockinged feet were thrust into pumps of early Oxford cut, and the predominant garment was the surtout, blue in colour, and of the original make before it came to be called a frock. One of the mysteries about him was, that his clothes, though unlike any other person's, were always old.
I know nothing of the Person's names, but this from good authority I had for certain told me, and that they offer'd to advance a very considerable sum of mony. It was in consequence of this that proposals were made here. Prudence will not admitt of my enlarging further upon this subject, as I am at so great a distance, I must beg leave to drop it . . .
"But you can't be ninety!" said Kate. "The Bible says that seventy years is the common length of a person's life." "Them was Jews," said Aunt Matilda. "It didn't mean no cull'd people. Cull'd people live longer than that. But p'raps a cull'd Jew wouldn't live very long." "Well," said Harry, "it makes no difference how old you are. We're going to take care of you for the rest of your life."
I am comfortable now, lying with my head on another person's knapsack full of used clothes; I am doing this solely because it is just the right size. But sleep will not come; there are only thoughts and dreams and lines of poetry and sentimentality. The sack smells human, and I fling it away, laying my head on my arm. My arm smells of wood not even wood.
Whither they were conducting me the reader will readily guess; it was to Bow Street. On being brought into the office, the men conducted me up to a person who, seated at a desk, was busily employed making entries in a large book. One of my captors having whispered something into this person's ear, he turned sharply round and demanded my name. I gave it him. "The others?" he said. "What others?"
"said my client in a round, hearty voice well calculated to recall a person's thoughts into their proper channel. "I have heard many times of your cosy home, and am glad of this opportunity of seeing it."
As the pension of an Anglo-Indian government officer descends to his surviving widow, the ingenuity and depth of this person's reasoning powers becomes at once apparent. He proposes to take revenge for the present shortcomings of the government by saddling it with a pension for a hundred years or more after his retirement from active service.
The stupidest fourth cousin had more, even though she had been nothing in such a person's life. She had been a feature of features in HIS, for what else was it to have been so indispensable? Strange beyond saying were the ways of existence, baffling for him the anomaly of his lack, as he felt it to be, of producible claim.
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