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Updated: May 5, 2025
He looked self-consciously into the faces of the family, who were smiling at his fears; then, with a queer expression on his face, as if he, too, knew it was funny, he went to the family altar, pushed aside the embossed velvet cover, and lay down under the table. The children laughed, Tom Jennings and Frank, a lanky, handsome, serious-faced lad smiled. Mac always did this in a thunderstorm.
His opinion of women isn't very high. And it's odd, too, isn't it, that both the very highest and very lowest of such opinions are always held by men who base them upon what they have been taught by one woman alone. Tell me, Joe, what's happened? How have you and Garry hit it off, since I went down river? . . . Trouble?" The fat man's eager denial was still self-consciously defensive.
He cleared his throat self-consciously before speaking and Martie, glancing quickly at him, saw that he intended the statement to have a significance. "Where were you then?" she asked duly. "I was I was " He hesitated, expelling a long breath suddenly. "Something came up," he amended, "and I had to see about it." "What came up?" Martie pursued, more anxious to set his mind at rest, than curious.
"Turning your torch into a truncheon?" "My dear Bunny! A gallant lad I hated hitting him." "I know," I said. "The way you got us out of the house!" "No, Bunny," said Raffles, blowing rings. "It came before that, you sinner, and you know it!" "You don't mean anything I did?" said I, self-consciously, for I began to see that this was what he did mean.
The clumsy fool understood that he had blundered. He had no sweetbread not even for Mrs. Maldon. The cutlets were wrapped in newspaper, and Louis rather self-consciously opened the maw of the reticule for them. "No offence, I hope, sir," said Heath as the pair left the shop, thus aggravating his blunder. Louis and Rachel crossed Duck Bank in constrained silence. Rachel was scarlet.
Therefore he loitered self-consciously before the stove as if to dry his wet clothing and then ambled across the room, remarking in offhand fashion: "It's settin' in for quite a rain." "Yes, it's a hard shower," Mary ventured, turning a puzzled glance upon her brother. "We need it though." "Yes, the ground was like chalk," agreed Martin.
She had no answer for that, but as she bade him good night at the top of the companion-way she saw herself in armour. Her vague dreams of John the Baptist, of Siegfried and of Britomart suddenly crystallized, and she saw herself, very self-consciously, the Deliverer who would save Louis Fame. It did not occur to her to wonder if he were worth saving.
She could not distinguish their eyes. They were a blurry theater-audience before which she self-consciously enacted the comedy of being the Clever Little Bride of Doc Kennicott: "These-here celebrated Open Spaces, that's what I'm going out for. I'll never read anything but the sporting-page again. Will converted me on our Colorado trip.
"Do you mean just knowing magic?" "A strange mixture," mused Miss Ford self-consciously. It is impossible to muse aloud without self-consciousness. "A strange and rather interesting mixture of naïveté and power. The question is power to what extent? Miss Watkins, I want you to come to one of my Wednesdays to meet one or two people who might possibly help you to a job lecturing, you know.
Now and then, yes, very often, out of some paradise, no doubt, strays into New England conditions of reticence and self-denial such a sweet spirit, to diffuse a breath of heaven in its atmosphere, and to wither like a rose ungathered. These are the New England nuns, not taking any vows, not self-consciously virtuous, apparently untouched by the vanities of the world. Marriage?
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