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Updated: May 11, 2025
Folks must talk in this town, an' what they're sayin' 'bout you ought to make you feel proud that a young fellow like him, and worth money, wanted to come courtin', an' he certainly showed he did, or I'm no judge." It was homely advice, and from the standpoint of Aunt Susan, as well as most of the world-wise matrons of Sandgate, it was good advice.
It had been the squire's ambition that his only son should become a professional man, and carrying out his wishes, Albert's mother had pinched and saved, denying herself all luxuries, and given him a collegiate education. He had graduated with honors; read law; been admitted to the bar; and then returned to Sandgate and opened an office.
Sandgate has succumbed to the spell of the South Eastern Railway Company, and has come into line with a project that will necessitate a change of cars at the Folkestone boundary.
"And what will you do now?" sneered Frye, a sinister look entering his yellow eyes, "steal or starve?" "Neither," replied Albert defiantly; "I'll go back to Sandgate and hoe corn first." Then, as a realizing sense of how much he was in the power of this courageous stripling came to Frye, his arrogance all melted, and as he turned and began to play with a paper-cutter he said meekly: "Come, Mr.
Staples explained his case to me, and I inadvertently told him that the agreement he held was of no value in law, which is the truth." "And what has that to do with it?" said Frye, with biting sarcasm. "I didn't hire you to tell the truth and lose me a paying client. If that is your idea of law practice you had better go back to Sandgate and hoe corn for a living.
On getting nearer, the hum of human voices showed me that a number of people had assembled, some of whom were engaged in throwing water over the stacks, others in pulling down the burning one. As I got up to them, I found that they were mostly labourers from Leighton, together with those belonging to the farm, with a few of the villagers from Sandgate.
Eligible building sites are offered, villas have been run up along the Sandgate Road, and an hotel has been built by the margin of the sea. When news reached the tower of the church that down on the beach there had risen a handsome hotel, fitted with all the luxuries of modern life, it is no wonder that the skulls turned on each other and as Longfellow in the "Skeleton in Armour" puts it
The sudden return of movement and familiar noises, and our natural anxiety about ourselves (our clothes were still dreadfully hot, and the fronts of the thighs of Gibberne's white trousers were scorched a drabbish brown), prevented the minute observations I should have liked to make on all these things. Indeed, I really made no observations of any scientific value on that return. The bee, of course, had gone. I looked for that cyclist, but he was already out of sight as we came into the Upper Sandgate Road or hidden from us by traffic; the char-
Just where she was I presently discovered: she was at the far end of the cliff, the point at which it overhangs the pretty view of Sandgate and Hythe. Her back, however, was turned to this attraction; it rested with the aid of her elbows, thrust slightly behind her so that her scanty little shoulders were raised toward her ears, on the high rail that inclosed the down.
Mears, the village gossip, may be sitting on the veranda of a small house almost hid by luxuriantly growing Norway spruce, and idly rocking while she chats with the widow Sloper, who lives there, and whose mission in life is to cut and fit the best "go to meetin'" gowns of female Sandgate.
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