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Updated: June 25, 2025
'Mother, what is the matter? Name o' goodness what is the matter? said Mr Prothero in great alarm. Gladys pointed out the letter to Owen, who glanced at it whilst his father took his wife into his arms. Gladys put vinegar to her temples and nostrils, and begged Mr Prothero to take her to the open window; as he did so he saw Owen reading a letter.
Their fishy eyes defy me to challenge their hidden thoughts. Each covers his miserable secret under the cloak of a wholesome manly indifference. A tattered cloak.... Each tries to hide his abandonment to this horrible vice of continence " "Billy, what's the matter with you?" Prothero grimaced impatience.
And on another occasion when Prothero was not with her she achieved still completer lucidity. "I would come if I thought he wanted me to come," she said. "But you see if I came he would not want me to come. Because then he would have me and so he wouldn't want me. He would just have the trouble. And I am not sure if I should be happy in Cambridge.
'Here you beholds Lisbon, that wast city, or rayther what wos Lisbon after the great earthquake. See the ruins all around, and the women and children a screamin'; and the priests a-prayin' those men in robes is priests, papishers, like them Irish beggars. 'Hush, Owen, interrupted Mrs Prothero. 'Look, father, do look here!
Benham's expedition to China with Prothero was essentially a wrestle between his high resolve to work out his conception of the noble life to the utmost limit and his curiously invincible affection and sympathy for the earthliness of that inglorious little don.
It meant many study hours, and it would also bring him into contact with the Olympians. There was Garter, who had been in the Sixth four terms, and was in the Second Fifteen. He would meet Betteridge. There was Rudd to rag. Prothero had reduced his time-table to one hour in school a day, and was an authority to consult on any subject regarding avoiding work. Davenport would be promoted, too.
Mrs Prothero is on her knees rubbing her child's cold hands, and looking as white as the corpse-like daughter thus restored to her. Mr and Mrs Jonathan look at one another, and then at Netta, with a glance of pity and grief.
Such is life! Death! what know the living of death? Is it not 'swallowed up in victory? Death, then, to the believer in Christ is victory. Such is death! These were thoughts that presented themselves to Rowland Prothero after he had followed his sister's body to the grave.
She was, however, very polite to all, and, for so young a woman, made a very agreeable and fascinating hostess. So, apparently, thought all the gentlemen, as they principally addressed their conversation to her, and had manoeuvred, particularly the young ones, to sit as near her as possible. The Rev Jonathan Prothero had the place of honour at her right, and did not take up much of her time. He appeared to be deep in the speculation concerning the ancient castle of which we have already heard, and was learnedly descanting upon it to Mrs Rice Rice, a lady on his other side. The said Mrs Rice Rice, having un oeil aux champs, et l'autre
'Hold your tongue, name o' goodness, 'Lizbeth Jenkins! growls Mr Prothero. 'Hush, Davy, bach! we have all our troubles, says Mrs Prothero, brushing a tear from her eye. 'Grandfather, I liked Harold so much! says Minette, to the great relief of the rest of the party. 'Call him Master Gwynne, you forward little minx, says Mr Prothero, patting the child's back gently.
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