Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
Quin demanded with such vehemence that they both laughed. "Probably making life miserable for Mother Bartlett," said Mrs. Ranny. "I can't imagine how she ever consented to have him come, or how he ever had the nerve to go, after the way they've treated him." "Harold's not concerned with the feelings of the family," said Mr. Ranny; "he is after Nell." But Mrs. Ranny scorned the idea.
But they did not meet her. And there was no sign of her downstairs at Granville. "Hark! What's that?" said Winny, listening at the foot of the stair. "Oh, Ranny!" From the room above there came a low, half-stifled sound of sobbing and groaning. He dashed upstairs. In a few minutes he returned to Winny in the front sitting-room. "What's the matter? Is she ill?" she said. "No, I don't think so.
"It's rum, isn't it?" said Ranny. He was apparently absorbed in tying the strings of his sleeping-suit into loops of absolutely even length. "But he always was that mysterious kind of bird." He began to step slowly backward as he buttoned up his jacket. Then, by way of throwing off the care that oppressed him, and lightening somewhat Mr.
I want you to ask 'em out here for a week." Mr. and Mrs. Ranny looked aghast at the preposterous suggestion, but Quin gave them no time to demur. He plunged into explanation, and clinched his argument by saying: "Ed would only be here at night, and Myrna could help around the house. They are bully youngsters. No end of fun, and they wouldn't give you a bit of trouble."
"I don't want to do anything but walk about and look at things," she said. "Why, we might have traveled for years and not seen as much." Winny seemed to be scoring points in the bazaar. Then, before she knew where she was, Ranny, with all the power of the Exhibition at his back, had bought her a present, a little heart-shaped brooch made of Florentine turquoises. That came of looking at things.
For as long as the nurse was there to look after it, the Baby's adorable person was kept in a daintiness and sweetness so exquisite that it was no wonder if Ranny's mother, in her transports, called it "Little Rose," and "Honeypot," and "Fairy Flower"; when all that Ranny said was, "It's a mercy it's got hair."
Far below, the photographer fumbled leisurely with his apparatus. "Hurry up, there!" "Stick it, Ransome!" "Half a mo!" "Stick it, Ranny; stick it!" they whispered. "Steady does it." And Ranny stuck it. Ranny actually, from his awful eminence, sang out, "No fear!" The flashlight immortalized his moment.
He had a tendency to be carried away and to be excited, exalted, and upset. Since Saturday afternoon Ranny had remained more or less in a state of tension induced by the hurdle race, by the shock of seeing Violet Usher, and by the dinner at the "Golden Eagle." And, coming straight from Violet, he had entered St. Matthias's Mission Church keyed up to his highest pitch.
He turned from Ranny with a swing of his coat tails that but feebly expressed his decision and his impatience. He paused before the closed doorway for a final word. "There's no earthly reason why she shouldn't nurse that baby." "What's that, sir?" said Ranny, arrested. "She must nurse it. It's better for her. It's better for the child. If I were her husband I'd insist on it insist.
But these bright hours were rare, and when they passed the gloom they had made visible was gloomier. And brooding over it, she suffered a sense of irremediable wrong. Nothing to look forward to but bedtime; the slow, soft-footed ascent to the room with the walls of love knots and rosebuds, Ranny carrying the Baby.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking