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Updated: May 13, 2025
He found Ransome in low spirits, and that excellent public servant being informed what he was wanted for, said dryly, "Well, but this will require some ability: don't you think your friend Silly Billy would be more likely to do it effectually than John Ransome?" "Why, Ransome, are you mad?" "No, I merely do myself justice.
Following on her bicycle, she would be there at ten sharp, when the five would go on to Richmond by the tram that passed Winny's door. Ransome had no sooner left Granville than Violet slipped out to the chemist's at the corner. Ten o'clock struck, and the quarter and the half hour, and Violet had not appeared at St. Ann's Terrace.
He hesitated. Poor Maisie had had cause enough if she had known. But she didn't know. It seemed to him that Ransome was looking at him queerly. "No," he said. "None." "You're quite certain? Has she ever had any?" "Well, I suppose she was pretty jumpy all the time I was at the front." "Before that? Years ago?" "That I don't know. I should say not." "You won't swear?" "No. I won't swear.
Here it occurred to me that, as the landlord was a man of that county, I might do well to make a friend of him. I offered him a share, as was much the custom in those days; but he was far too great a man to sit with such poor customers as Ransome and myself, and he was leaving the room, when I called him back to ask if he knew Mr. Rankeillor. "Hoot ay," says he, "and a very honest man.
"De ole chimbly smoke extrorninary at dis season. De chickens and de turkies know dat chimbly well." "Guess they do," said Felix. "General Ransome, can you keep a secret?" "I is close as Missa Pint pocket, dat button all round," said the old negro.
He had been wrapped up in himself, that's what he had been; a selfish, low brute. He felt that there was nothing he wouldn't do for Vi, if only God would spare her. But God wouldn't. He wasn't sparing her now. God had proved that he was capable of anything. It was incredible to Ransome that Violet should live through that night.
To render the lunar observations more continuous, Airy employed Troughton's successor, James Simms, in conjunction with the engineers, Ransome and May, to construct an altazimuth with three-foot circles, and a five-foot telescope, in 1847.
And by holding their tongues about it and not passing it on they had succeeded in dismissing from their minds, for long intervals at a time, the story they had heard about Mr. Ransome. "For, mind you," said Mr. Randall, "if it got about it would ruin him. Ruin him it would. As much as if it was true." Long afterward when she thought of that Sunday, and how beautifully they'd spoken of Mr.
When his mother's light soprano broke, breathless for a moment, on a top note, Mrs. Randall's rich, guttural contralto came to its support, Mr. Randall supplying a running accompaniment of bass. And now they burst, all three of them, into anecdote and reminiscence, illustrating what they were all agreed about, that Mr. Ransome was a good man.
His mother looked at him shrewdly and said nothing. But she sat down and wrote a letter to Winny Dymond, asking her to come and spend Christmas Day with them, if, said Mrs. Ransome, she hadn't anywhere better to go to and didn't mind a sad house. And Winny came. She hadn't anywhere better to go to, and she didn't mind a sad house in the least.
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