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The Nobles were bound for England. I was myself going north to stay once more with Sir John and Lady Guendolen Ramsden. By the West Highland railway I reached the diminutive station of Tulloch, and a drive of twenty miles brought me to the woods, the waters, and the granite turrets of Ardverikie.

George Perkins, who had long since forfeited any confidence which his partner might have reposed in him, had topped his drive, leaving Miss Bingley a difficult second out of a sandy ditch. The hole was halved. The match went on. Ramsden won the short hole, laying his ball dead with a perfect iron shot, but at the next, the long dog-leg hole, Miss Bingley regained the honour.

Mrs Ramsden, being unaccustomed to the ways of fashionable warfare, was flurried and thrown off her balance by so unexpected an opening to the fray, and had hard work to answer connectedly. She was, moreover, keenly on the alert to watch the meeting between Elma and Geoffrey, whom she had not seen in each other's company since the fatal visit to the Manor.

That portrait is the portrait of a chump, and such Ramsden Waters undeniably was. By the end of the first year in the neighbourhood, Ramsden, as I say, had become practically a hermit. He lived all by himself in a house near the fifteenth green, seeing nobody, going nowhere. His only solace was golf.

To think that the little dried up schoolmasterish man was Professor Lee Ramsden, prowling about outside the group, eager and shy, waiting to be introduced to you, nobody taking the smallest notice of him. The woman who had brought him making soft, sentimental eyes at you through the gaps in the group, and trying to push him in a bit nearer.

"You're going to the lecture?" "If it had been at three instead of eight " "The hour was fixed for the townspeople's convenience." In five minutes you had gathered that you would not be allowed to see Professor Lee Ramsden; that Professor Lee Ramsden did not desire to see or talk to anybody except Mrs.

The celebrated mathematical instrument maker, Mr. Ramsden, was frequently deficient in punctuality, and would delay for months, nay, for years, the delivery of instruments bespoken from him. His majesty, who had more than once experienced this dilatory disposition, once ordered an instrument, which he made Ramsden positively promise to deliver on a certain day.

The boatswain led the way, and Ramsden was helped down, the man who had volunteered to go in the cavern to fetch the pistols manoeuvring so as to be last, and as soon as the party had disappeared over the shelf he gave a glance after them, and turned sharply.

She twisted her saucy nose, and rolled her eyes heavenwards. "I'm thankful I struck a livelier time! As for you, Elma Ramsden, you're going to be equal to any one of them, if nothing happens to shake you up. I guess it's my mission to do the shaking, so we'll start fair from now on. You're engaged to me Thursday afternoon. D'you understand?

Ramsden had not much education he was already old when better times came in he might have done better in a less difficult parish with better laity to support him, etc." Yet after all, he exclaimed with one of his impatient gestures, "Better have my Harry's seventeen years than his sixty-seven!" "Better improve a talent than lay it by!" said Ethel. "Hush! Ethel.