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Updated: June 9, 2025
"He's safe on the moor with Alderson looking after the sheep, and he's safe in the cowshed milking the cows; but he isn't safe when Ned drives into Reyburn market." "Would it be safer in Canada?" "Yes. He'd be thirty miles from the nearest pub. He'd be safer here if you didn't give him money." "The boy has to have money to buy clothes." "I could buy them." "I daresay!
IT was one of those little ironies of fate that are spoken about so much, that when Warren Reyburn alighted from the train in Tinsdale Abijah Gage should be supporting one corner of the station, and contributing a quid now and then to the accumulations of the week scattered all about his feet.
That is impossible here, where that black death can at any moment extinguish all our light." "Be still! be still!" said Reyburn. "Why do you speak of it?" he cried roughly. "Isn't it enough to know that some day it must come? "The iron hand that breaks our band, It breaks my bliss it breaks my heart!"
Sutcliffe had wanted the last dance, the polka; but she couldn't give it him. She didn't want to dance with anybody after Mark. The big, long dining-room was cleared; the floor waxed. People had come from Reyburn and Durlingham. A hollow square of faces. Faces round the walls. Painted faces hanging above them: Mr. Sutcliffe's ancestors looking at you.
But Reyburn laughed at him again, and passed over to Helen's side. They sat together on the deck, Helen and Reyburn, long after all the others had gone to rest; for Mr.
Sutcliffe not to send you any more books from that library." "I'm seven and twenty, Mamma ducky." "The more shame for you then," her mother said. The clock on the Congregational Chapel struck six. They put down their books and looked at each other. "Dan not back?" Mamma knew perfectly well he wasn't back. "He went to Reyburn." "T't!" Mamma's chin nodded in queer, vexed resignation.
I'd be glad to help you out doing all I could, but of course it would take your brains to get the information, sir. You see, it would be to my interest, because then you could afford to keep me, and I like you, Mr. Reyburn, I certainly do. I would hate to leave you." "Well, now, I appreciate that, Ryan. It's very thoughtful of you.
Reyburn hurried down the street to the office of an old friend where he had a bit of business as an excuse, and asked a few casual questions when he was done. Then he went on to a telephone booth and called up a friend of his mother's, with whom he had a brief gossip, ostensibly to give a message from his mother, contained in her last letter to him.
She wasn't sure either, but would see when he called her up. And so they parted for the night. The next morning when Reyburn entered his office Jimmie was already seated at his typewriter. On Reyburn's desk lay a neatly typed copy of the announcement that had been put on the screen the night before. "What's this, Ryan?" he questioned as he took his seat and drew the paper toward him.
I may not be back this afternoon. Just see that everything is all right." "Very well, sir." Reyburn went out, then opened the door and put his head back in the room. "I may have to go out of town to-night, Ryan. I'm not sure. Something has come up. If I'm not in to-morrow, could you would you mind just staying here all day and looking after things? I may need you.
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