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Updated: April 30, 2025
A fresh and lovely pink rose, just opening full from the bud, lay in the bottom of the basket. There was a rustling somewhere in the house and a murmur, above which a boy's voice became audible in emphatic but undistinguishable complaint. A whispering followed, and a woman exclaimed protestingly, "Cora!" And then a startlingly pretty girl came carelessly into the room through the open door.
The last word his father uttered gave him a cue, and he blurted out protestingly: "That's just it, sir. You forget that I'm no longer a boy. It's time to treat me as if I were a man." Ryder, Sr., leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "A man at twenty-eight? That's an excellent joke. Do you know that a man doesn't get his horse sense till he's forty?"
The last words at the head of the steps were these: "Now, dear, to-morrow I must go a journey on business which will keep me three days and nights possibly three weeks. Tell father Uel what I say. Tell him also that I have ordered you to stay indoors while I am absent, unless he can accompany you. Do you hear me?" "Three weeks!" she cried, protestingly. "Oh, it will be so lonesome!
"I wish you had," with a gleeful mischief. The next moment, however, the hint of a worried frown showed itself on her forehead. "You see," she said protestingly, "you are so FRIGHTFULLY pretty." "I'd rather be a leper," Robin shot forth. But Kathryn did not of course understand. "What nonsense!" she answered. "What utter rubbish! You know you wouldn't. Come back to the ball room.
He stretched out his hand protestingly, the fingers spread in excitement. "No more not another word!" he said. "I ask for forgiveness, for one word of kindness and I am offered money! the fire that burned me to eat, instead of bread! I had a wife once," he added in a kind of troubled dream, looking at her as if she were very far away, "and her name was Mercy her name was Mercy Mercy Madras.
"Cook" had knocked and Feather had told her to come in. Most cooks are stout, but this one was not. She was a thin, tall woman with square shoulders and a square face somewhat reddened by constant proximity to fires. She had been trained at a cooking school. She carried a pile of small account books but she brought nothing else. "I wanted some beef tea, Cook," said Feather protestingly.
"You mean we have actually got the ring back diamonds and all?" put in Hollings, as if unable to make real the miracle. "We have thanks to Mr. Corrigan," was Mr. Burton's reply. "Thanks to young Christopher, you mean, sir," smiled the chief protestingly. "What can I do to thank you?" cried Hollings.
Then he indulged in a long and peculiarly significant whistle through his teeth, rolled his eyes heavenward, and went into the house. He remembered Austen's remark about riding a cyclone. Mr. Crewe took the Tunbridge road. On his excursion of the day before he had met Mrs. Pomfret, who had held up her hand, and he had protestingly brought the car to a stop.
Linnet laughed and scrutinized the white handled knives to see if there were any blemishes on the blades; her mother kept them laid away in old flannel. "Now, Linnet, you see it isn't a joke," began Marjorie, protestingly; "the word is made of all the first letters of the seven colors, just see!" counting on her fingers, "violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red!
"Sir, I am meditating," I shouted protestingly. "I know how you are meditating," my guru called out, "with your mind distributed like leaves in a storm! Come here to me." Snubbed and exposed, I made my way sadly to his side. "Poor boy, the mountains couldn't give what you wanted." Master spoke caressively, comfortingly. His calm gaze was unfathomable. "Your heart's desire shall be fulfilled."
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