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Updated: May 16, 2025
Jeff's head dropped, but, glancing shyly up, he saw a pleasant smile on his questioner's face. He was still writing rapidly, but was apparently enjoying at the same time some pleasant recollection. "Your father and I lost nearly sixty thousand dollars together one night, ten years ago, when we were both younger." "Yes, sir," said Jeff dubiously. "But it was OUR OWN MONEY, Jeff." "Yes, sir."
The nurse, who is now rubbing her hands at the questioner's elbow, interferes with, 'It ain't much raly, sir. You see they've only six ounces a day, and when they've took their breakfast, there CAN only be a little left for night, sir. Another old man, hitherto invisible, rises out of his bed-clothes, as out of a grave, and looks on.
'How are you sure of that? John merely pointed to him as he stood with his head bent forward, and his earnest gaze fixed closely on his questioner's face; and nodded sagely. At the worst I can have a bed here, Willet, I suppose?
But in so much as many of these revelations were professedly Divine answers to her own questions, and since the answer must ever be adapted not merely to the question considered in the abstract, but as it springs from its context in the questioner's mind; we are not wrong, on this score alone, in arguing from the character of the revelation to the character of the mind to which it was addressed.
To a tamely prosperous Easterner who, some years after his return to the West, made the conventional remark, "And isn't it amazing that you were happy through those hard years of toil when you were so poor?" Peter Bines had replied, to his questioner's hopeless bewilderment: "No. But it is surprisin' that I kept happy after I got rich after I got what I wanted.
To all of which Gwen returned suitable replies, tending to encourage a belief in her questioner's mind that its early youth had been passed in a German principality with Kapellmeisters and Conservatoriums and a Court Opera Company.
As it was, he smiled, looking up fearless in the face of the magistrate, so awful in his own esteem. "What is your name?" asked the laird, speaking yet more sternly. Gibbie still smiled and was silent, looking straight in his questioner's eyes. He dreaded nothing from the laird.
"Now you're making fun of me," she interrupted reproachfully. "I see you don't want to talk about serious things. Do you admire Miss Orford?" she asked, indicating another musical comedy lady who was seated opposite, and who had shown occasional signs of a desire to join in the conversation. Wingate took his cue from his questioner's tone and glance. "A little too thin," he hazarded.
The above was written down under the eyes of the marshal, and when Abbe Soulavie entreated him to say something further which, while not actually revealing the secret, would yet satisfy his questioner's curiosity, the marshal answered, "Read M. de Voltaire's latest writings on the subject, especially his concluding words, and reflect on them."
Beatrice seemed quite anxious that I should not talk about her to you at all. She did not like my coming to-day." "You seem to know a great deal about my sister," Elizabeth declared reflectively. "You call her by her Christian name and you appear to see her frequently. Perhaps, even, you are fond of her." Tavernake met his questioner's inquiring gaze blankly. He was almost indignant.
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