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Updated: June 17, 2025
The vague horror that waited for him every morning had turned into this definite fear of Queenie. He was afraid of her temper, of her voice and eyes, of her crude, malignant thoughts, of her hatred of Anne. More than anything he was afraid of her power over him, of her vehement, exhausting love. He was afraid of her beauty. One morning, early in September, the wire came.
I couldn't holler even, worth listenin'. An' who'd buy off a girl what can't holler?" "Hmm. I don' know. Hollerin's the life o' your trade, same's rub-a-dub-dubbin' 's the life o' mine, er puttin' the freshest flower to the front the bunch is o' Jane's. But, land, 'Queenie, you best not wait fer the cap'n. Best keep a doin', an' onct you're at it again, the holler'll come all right.
"Goo'-bye, Queenie Sandy," called Tom, as they separated at the turn of the path. "Good-bye, Tom, you old Grand Sandjandrum!" and then the Maynards ran into their own house. "Gently, my lad and lassie; gently!" warned Mrs. Maynard, as her two young hopefuls flung themselves upon her. "Oh, Mothery," cried Marjorie, "we had such a good time! And our court journal was lovely! Want to see it?
He hated Queenie. And he loved her. At night, at night, she would unbend, she would be tender and passionate, she would touch him with quick, hurrying caresses, she would put her arms round him and draw him to her, kissing and kissing. And with her young, beautiful body pressed tight to him, with her mouth on his and her eyes shining close and big in the darkness, Colin would forget. iii Dr.
Dudley entered, into the affair with some zest, but it was noticeable that he devoted himself to Queenie, and exchanged very few remarks with Doreen. There was a certain barrier of constraint springing up between him and Doreen which had risen to an uncomfortable height by the time the curate entered.
"I understand that you and Miss Queenie there are contemplating matrimony, Mr. Brent?" he remarked. "That so, sir?" "That's so," replied Brent promptly. "As soon as we've got our house furnished we'll be married." "Then I can speak freely and in confidence before Mrs. Brent that's to be," responded Hawthwaite, with another smile. "Well, now, what you've just told me isn't exactly fresh news to me!
We felt exactly as if we were 'on the land. How is your cold, Hereward? Ingred, you look tired, child! Sit down and rest while Queenie fetches the teapot." Ingred sank into a garden-chair with much satisfaction. Wynchcote might not be Rotherwood, but it looked an uncommonly pretty little place in the September sunshine. To live there would be like a perpetual picnic.
'Is it the horrid figures, Theo? Queenie asked, half-sympathetically, half-absently, her attention being attracted by a bold thrush hopping across the graves. 'No, it's worse than figures; it's the boys, mournfully rejoined Theo. 'The boys are going shrimping this evening, with Ned, said Queenie importantly. 'I wish you and I was boys, Theo! the little one plaintively added.
Sheila had been about to send little John-Ed around for Queenie and the carryall, but Orion put the boy aside with a self-assured grin. "Nobody ain't going to put you in the carriage, Ida May, but me," he declared. "I'll get the old mare." He seized his cap and went out. In a few minutes they had said good-bye, and the old couple and the girl went out on the church steps.
But there was something untouched by the sordidness of her calling about this ample Rabelaisian woman. There was a noise about Queen Bess lacking in her harpy contemporaries. "Big-hearted Bess," the coppers used to call her, and "Queenie" was the name her employees had for her. But to customers she was always Queen Bess.
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