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Updated: September 17, 2025
Then her eyes returned to his, and regarded him with a comforting, friendly, half-motherly glance, recalling for all the world the way Sister Soulsby had looked at him at odd times. "Oh, you want it at once I see," she remarked softly. "Well, this Adelberger is the best value for the money." Mr.
The subdued noise rose regularly, as of one pacing to and fro. "No, Soulsby, YOU come back to bed, and get YOUR sleep out. I'm going downstairs. It's no good talking; I'm going."
Sister Soulsby stole a swift glance at the unsuspecting face of her companion which was not all admiration, but her voice remained patiently affectionate. "Oh, that'll all come back to you, right enough. You'll have your hands full, you know, finding a house, and unpacking all your old furniture, and buying new things, and getting your home settled.
He submitted, and did not even offer to put out his arm this time, but looked in piteous dumbness at her for a long time. While she sat thus in silence, the sound of Brother Soulsby moving about upstairs became audible. Theron heard it, and the importance of hurrying on some further disclosure seemed to suggest itself. "I can see you think I'm just drunk," he said, in low, sombre tones.
He's past being drunk; he's grief-crazy. It's a case of 'woman. Some girl has made a fool of him, and decoyed him up in a balloon, and let him drop. He's been hurt bad, too." "We have all been hurt in our day and generation," responded Brother Soulsby, genially. "Don't you worry; he'll sleep that off too. It takes longer than drink, and it doesn't begin to be so pleasant, but it can be slept off.
He talked exclusively to Sister Soulsby, or rather invited her by his manner to talk to him, and listened and watched her with indolent content.
We couldn't do good work if we weren't. But that's a matter of temperament of emotions." "Precisely. That was what I was getting at," explained Theron. "Well, then, hear what I was getting at," she went on. "You were talking very loudly here about frauds and hypocrisies and so on, a few minutes ago. Now I say that Soulsby and I do good, and that we're good fellows. Now take him, for example.
The phrases were all familiar enough "Jesus a very present help," "Sprinkled by the Blood," "Comforted by the Word," "Sanctified by the Spirit," "Born into the Kingdom," and a hundred others but it was as in the case of her singing: the words were old; the music was new. What Sister Soulsby said did not matter.
They must have talked over the situation pretty thoroughly on the way, for by the time the new-comer had washed his face and hands and put on a clean collar, Sister Soulsby was ready to announce her plan of campaign in detail. Her husband was a man of small stature and, like herself, of uncertain age. He had a gentle, if rather dry, clean-shaven face, and wore his dust-colored hair long behind.
"Good gracious, man," she began, "you don't mean " Here the cheerful gleam in his small eyes reassured her, and she sighed relief, then smiled confusedly. "I half thought, just for the minute," she explained, "it might be some bounder who'd come East to try and blackmail me. But no, who is it and what on earth have you done with him?" Brother Soulsby cackled in merriment.
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