Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
"These are what Master Potts's royal authority would style 'mere old wives' trattles about the fire," observed Mistress Nutter, scornfully. "Better be over-credulous than over-sceptical," replied Potts. "Even at my lodging in Chancery Lane I have a horseshoe nailed against the door. One cannot be too cautious when one has to fight against the devil, or those in league with him.
And, after another pause, in which only Mr. Potts's deep breathing was heard, and the desperate scratching at the door of the banished Tison, she said in somber tones: "I think you forget, Mr. Potts, that I was never one of my husband's appreciators. I am sorry to be forced to recall this fact to your memory."
Now and then the effect of the anodyne wore off and the old gnawing pain, or a sodden sense of futility, overwhelmed her afresh. "It will never get straight!" she said, thinking in the terms of Potts's specifics. "I am somehow wrong, and I must go all my life with this torture or worse until I die!"
At about half-past nine, when things were getting hilarious, he beat a retreat, followed by the reproaches of the fellows. He was determined to administer the first dose of Potts's painless cure to his interesting patient that very evening, if she had not already retired. He was in high good humor. Potts was a brick; Potts was a genius.
Potts's back, the ridge of its high stays strongly marked by the slanting sunlight, descended among the sylvan scenery. "Yes, and she did so want to come, awfully keen on it," said Sir Basil; "but I hope you won't think me very brutal if I confess that I'm not sorry. I want to talk to you, you see," Sir Basil beamed. "I would rather talk to you, too," Imogen smiled.
C. had unexpectedly found in one of his waistcoat pockets to purchase the fish. nothing further worthy of notice occurred in the course of this day. the last evening was cool but the day was remarkably pleasent with a fine breize from the N. W. neither Drewyer Shannon nor Whitehouse returned this evening. Potts's legg is inflamed and very painfull to him. we apply a poltice of the roots of Cows.
With these words Potts departed, and, ascending the stairs, entered the drawing-room. The stranger was standing looking out of one of the windows. His attitude brought back to Potts's recollection the scene which had once occurred there, when old Smithers was holding Beatrice in his arms. The recollection of this threw a flood of light on Potts's mind. He recalled it with a savage exaltation.
Potts's hearing was not addressed; nor was the chief person in the meditation affected by a question that merely jumped out of his perturbed interior. Business at Calesford kept Fleetwood hanging about London several days further; and his hatred of a place he wasted time and money to decorate grew immeasurable.
No one had as yet enlightened her as to the Potts's catastrophe, but even by its interpretation she would have found the change hard to understand. Perhaps it was merely that she, Mary, was selfish and felt herself to be of less importance to Imogen.
Ambrose died of the accidental shot of a pocket-pistol he customarily carried loaded. Two intimate associates of the dead man swore to that habit of his. They lied to get him undisputed Christian burial. Aha! The earl laughed outright at Chummy Potts's nursery qualms. The old fellow had to do it, and he lied like a man for the sake of Ambrose Mallard's family. So much is owing to our friend.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking