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"They won't go the distance," Julian whispered. "Listen." "The question to be considered," Lord Shervinton pronounced, "is not so much when the war will be over as what there is to stop it? That is a point which I think we can discuss without inviting official indiscretions." "If other means fail," declared the Bishop, "Christianity will stop it.
And the two guardians of order marched their prisoners through the hut-town to a wooden building at the end, where Major Shervinton dealt out a simple, rough-and-ready justice to the turbulent characters he ruled. This was precisely what Mariquita had hoped for. What she sought at all hazards was to gain speech of the provost-marshal.
You know you're in league with the Russians. I have had my eye on you this long time. Some of these days we'll be down upon you like a cart-load of bricks." "You a very hard man, Major Shervinton, sare very unkind to poor Joe. I offer you bread every day for nothing; you say No. Why not take Joe's bread?" "Because Joe's a scoundrel to offer it. Do you suppose I am to be bribed in that way?
"I shall look after you myself," she insisted. "Mr. Orden is wanted to play billiards. Lord Shervinton is anxious for a game." "I shall be delighted," Julian answered promptly. He moved to the door and held it open. Catherine gave him her fingers and a little half-doubtful smile. "If only you were not so cruelly obstinate!" she sighed. He found no words with which to answer her.
The shed was encumbered with barrels of inferior flour, and all around upon shelves lay the small short rolls, dark-looking and sour-tasting, which were sold in the camp for a shilling a piece. "Well, Joe, what's the news from Sebastopol to-day?" asked Shervinton. "Why you ask me, sare? I a poor Maltee baker sell bread, make money. Have nothing to do with fight." "You rascal!
He arrived there half-an-hour after Colonel Blythe, and the news he brought threw fresh light upon the disappearance of poor McKay. "There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's.
Stenson said, leaning a little forward, "and that is the will of the people." There was perplexity as well as discomfiture in the minds of his hearers. "The people?" Lord Shervinton repeated. "But surely the people speak through the mouths of their rulers?"
"And I," Hannaway Wells retorted, "have been informed most credibly that he is a Church of England clergyman." "The last rumour I heard," Lord Shervinton put in, "was that he is a grocer in a small way of business at Wigan." "Dear me!" Doctor Lennard remarked. "The gossips have covered enough ground!
I beg your pardon the Bishop, my dear." The remaining guests drifted in within the next few moments, the Bishop, Julian's godfather, a curious blend of the fashionable and the devout, the anchorite and the man of the people; Lord and Lady Shervinton, elderly connections of the nondescript variety; Mr.
But the years went by, and I never wrote, and now it was too late, after fifteen had passed. Very likely he was dead, and had willed his money to churches or hospitals, or some such charities, and I should always be "Jim Sherry, the trader," to the end of my days, and never "James Shervinton, Esq., of Moya Woods, Donegal." Well, after all, what did it matter?
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