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But in that ways he was only wan o' many; and after he was dead 't happened just as 't ole chap had said it wud, for he used to say, 'When I'm tooked folks 'ull get up a talk that ole Zeke Spry killed hisself with drink; but don't you listen to it, he says, ''cos 'tain't nothin' o' the sort: he died for want o' breath that's what killed he; and I reckon he was about right, else there wudn't be nobody left to die in Polperro."
Everyone in Polperro respected the couple, for Mary Polly kept herself to herself, and Captain Jacka was known for the handiest man in the haven to run a Guernsey cargo or handle a privateer, and this though he took to privateering late in life, in the service of the "Hand and Glove" company of adventurers. By and by Mr.
This is the calmer mood in which visitors generally find Polperro. Probably not many visitors will trouble to inquire into the derivation of the name of Polperro; they will be content to know that it is Cornish.
I'll be bound for't he's safe home alongst afore now: he ain't like wan to act wild and go steppin' into danger wi' both his eyes wide open." The possibility suggested, and Joan was off again, back on her way to Polperro, too impatient to wait while her mother put on her bonnet to accompany her. At the door stood Eve, breathless expectation betraying itself in her every look and gesture.
"No, indeed! Of course, I play bridge all English people play bridge but I have never gambled, if you mean that, monsieur, in my life." "I am delighted to hear Madame say so," said M. Polperro, heartily. "People now talk of Lacville as if there was only the Casino and the play. They forget the beautiful walks, the lovely lake, and the many other attractions we have to offer!
M. Polperro led Chester into the stately, long drawing-room; but in a very few moments he reappeared, having taken off his white apron and his chef's cap, and put on a light grey alpaca coat and a soft hat. As they hurried along the path which skirts the lake, Chester began to feel the charm of the place. It was very gay and delightful "very French," so the English lawyer told himself.
Could it be possible that he, Reuben May, was going down to live at Polperro, a place whose very name he had once taught himself to abominate? that he could be willingly casting his lot amid a people whom he had but lately branded as thieves, outcasts, reprobates?
Nor were theirs the only lips which spoke of gratitude to Reuben May: his name had now become familiar to many who through his means were kept from being ignorant of the sad fate which awaited their boon companion, their prime favorite, the once madcap, rollicking Jerrem the last one, as Joan often told Reuben, whom any in Polperro would have fixed on for evil to pursue or misfortune to overtake, and about whom all declared there must have been "a hitch in the block somewheres, as Fate never intended that ill-luck should pitch upon Jerrem."
She put her note into an envelope, addressed it, and went downstairs again. It was very late, but M. Polperro was still up. The landlord never went to bed till each one of his clients was safe indoors. "Will you kindly see that the Comte de Virieu gets this to-night?" she said briefly.
We begin by admitting that Lord Polperro has put himself in a very painful position. Painful, let me tell you, in every sense. Lord Polperro desires nothing so much nothing so much as to be reunited to his family. He longs for the society of his wife and daughter. What more natural in a man who feels that his days are numbered!
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