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Updated: June 10, 2025
I took a chance; I wired back a polite request to be excused as I had urgent business in Chicago. And twenty-four hours later I passed within thirty miles of Rivington on my way to Chicago with Carlotta we were going to see Junior, hugely proud of himself and his twenty-seven dollars a week.
James Rivington edited a paper in New York during the Revolution, and, in 1782, the American prisoners on board the Jersey addressed a letter to him for publication, which is given below. "On Board the Prison-ship Jersey, June 11, 1782.
The blue eyes widened for a moment, then smiled approbation. "Very appropriate," murmured Rivington. "All right, Tommy; I know the gentleman." He was still smiling as he entered his room. A slim, dark man turned swiftly from its farther end to meet him. He had obviously been prowling up and down. "Mr. Rivington?" he said interrogatively. Rivington bowed. "Mr. Dinghra Singh?" he returned.
"That" was a lady from Rivington, one of Honora's former neighbours, to whom she had bowed. Life, indeed, is full of contrasts. Mr. Cuthbert, too, was continually bowing and waving to acquaintances on the Avenue. Thus pleasantly conversing, they arrived at the first house on the list, and afterwards went through a succession of them.
"This tough talk is the very stuff that counts. There is a picturesqueness about the speech of the lower order of people that is quite unique. Did you say that this is the Bowery variety of slang?" "Oh, well," said Rivington, giving it up, "I'll tell you straight. That's one of our college professors talking. He ran down for a day or two at the club.
Holt's house was a refuge, not an outlet; and thither Honora directed her steps when a distaste for lunching alone or with some of her Rivington friends in the hateful, selfish gayety of a fashionable restaurant overcame her; or when her moods had run through a cycle, and an atmosphere of religion and domesticity became congenial.
"Who hasn't?" said Rivington. She raised her eyes suddenly and gave him a straight, serious look. "Are you trying to be complimentary, Knight Errant? Because don't!" Rivington blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Shouldn't dream of it," he said imperturbably. "I am fully aware that poor relations mustn't presume on their privileges."
He lowered his eyes slowly as if he were afraid of giving them a shock, and focussed them upon the speaker. "I am never late," he remarked. "And I am never early." Then he smiled kindly and held out his hand. "Hullo, Chirpy!" he said. "It is Chirpy, isn't it?" "Yes, it is Chirpy. But I never expected you to remember that." "I remember most things," said Rivington.
I think there is entirely too much of it." It was a month after this, simultaneously with the announcements by cable of the instant success in London of "A Western Idyl," that Miss Cuyler retired from the world she knew, and disappeared into darkest New York by the way of Rivington Street.
That would convince him if nothing else would, and it would mean at least a temporary respite. It was a mad thing to do, I know. But I thought you were elderly and level-headed and a confirmed bachelor and and a sort of cousin as well " "To the tenth degree," murmured Rivington. "So I told him," she hurried on, unheeding, "that we were engaged, and it was just going to be announced.
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