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"Half a million, is it? Well, that's a great deal, no doubt; and I fully see the force of your excellent argument. But I fear there is nothing to be done in that line: I'm not born to be the heir to half a million of money; you might see that in my face." Mr. Pritchett stared at him very hard. "Well, I can't say that I do, Mr.
Pritchett." "Yes, it is some years now, certainly, Miss Baker. I'm not so young as I was; I know that." Mr. Pritchett's voice at this juncture would have softened the heart of any stone that had one. "But this is what it is, ma'am; you're going to live with the old gentleman now." "Yes, I believe I am." "Well, now; about Mr. George, ma'am." "Mr. George!" "Yes, Mr. George, Miss Baker.
"The impression conveyed to the eye," Professor Pritchett wrote, "is that the equatorial stream of denser coronal matter extends across and through the filaments, simply obscuring them by its greater brightness. The effect is just as if the equatorial belt were superposed upon, or passed through, the filamentary structure.
He said nothing about it; he merely told Mr. Pritchett to arrange the matter. Sir Lionel was delighted. As to the question of orthodoxy he was perfectly indifferent. It was nothing to him whether his son called the book of Genesis a myth or a gospel; but he had said much, very much as to the folly of risking the fellowship; and more, a great deal more, as to the madness of throwing it away.
He's been good to you; and you've your duty to do by him now, Mr. George; and you'll do it." So said Mr. Pritchett, having thoroughly argued the matter in his own mind, and resolved, that as Mr. George was a wilful young horse, who would not be driven in one kind of bridle, another must be tried with him. "But has my uncle sent to say that he wants to see me again at once?" "He has, Mr.
All this was nearly as bad to him as the remembrance of what he had lost; but by degrees he screwed his courage up to the necessary point of endurance. "What is Pritchett to me, with his kind, but burdensome solicitude? what Sir Henry's mad anger? How can they affect my soul? or what even is my father? Let him rave.
Bertram's chair in the dining-room. "I wanted to speak to you, sir," said he, rushing at once into the midst of his subject, "about Caroline's settlement. It is time that all that should be arranged. I would have made my lawyer see Pritchett; but I don't know that Pritchett has any authority to act for you in such matters." "Act for me! Pritchett has no authority to act nor have I either."
He knew that he was to have nothing; and although, now that the moment had come, he felt that wealth might possibly have elated him, still the absence of it did not make him in any degree unhappy. But it did make him uncomfortable to think that he should be commiserated by Mr. Pritchett, sneered at by Harcourt, and taunted by his father. "Well, gentlemen, are we ready?" said Mr. Stickatit again.
Here was Mr. Bertram turned seventy years of age Mr. Pritchett himself was sixty-six and no one knew who was to be his heir. As far as he, Mr. Pritchett, was aware, he had no heir. Mr. George would naturally be so so thought Mr.
Sir Henry Harcourt had plainly demanded at what hour the will would be read; and Mr. Stickatit, junior Mr. George Stickatit of the firm of Dry and Stickatit, had promised to be at Hadley punctually at two P.M. And he kept his word. Mr. Pritchett came down by an early train, and, as was fit on such an occasion, was more melancholy than usual.
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