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Updated: May 29, 2025
To his most worthy friend, Sir Samuel Saltonstall Knight, he gives five pounds; to Morris Treadway, five pounds; to his sister Smith, the widow of his brother, ten pounds; to his cousin Steven Smith, and his sister, six pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence between them; to Thomas Packer, Joane, his wife, and Eleanor, his daughter, ten pounds among them; to "Mr.
Even the sixth form quailed when the head master assumed this expression, but the small child at the table was gazing out of the window. Doubtless Steven was slightly embarrassed by the detachment of the examinee, and blundered. "What is the square root of 226?" he asked he probably intended to say 225. "15·03329 to five places," replied the Wonder. Steven started.
No, I have seen no one I like as well. But is 'like' what you deserve, what you ask? and is it not all I have ever been able to promise you? Steven, bear me witness, for Kate is bitterly unjust to me at times, I told you again and again last summer and fall that I did not love you and ought not to think of being your wife.
At first the caressing touch of her fingers, as they gently stroked his hair, made the tears flow faster. Then he grew quieter after a while, and only sobbed at long intervals as he answered her questions. His name was Steven, he said. He knew nothing of the home to which he was being taken, nor did he care, if he could only be allowed to stay with Robin.
"He used to bring me here when I was such a little fellow that he sometimes had to carry me on his back. He was the greatest fisherman thee ever saw. I cannot fish so well myself!" And with this ingenuous avowal, at which Pepeeta smiled appreciatively, they laid their baskets down, and Steven began preparing the rude tackle. "Did thee ever bait a hook, Pepeeta?" he asked under his breath.
Dorothea had finished her afternoon's work and was seated before the great fireplace, while by her side stood Steven, speaking to her in whispers, and looking often toward the cot on which Pepeeta lay. An almost sacred stillness was in the room, for since the advent of the sufferer, even the quiet of that well-ordered household had deepened and softened.
In his hand he held a telegram ordering the deposition of Nehal Singh, Rajah of Marut, and the recognition, pardon and release of one Steven Caruthers, Englishman. But he crept away with the long-hoped-for message. "Time enough," he thought. "They are happy." And if beneath his heartfelt rejoicing there lurked the shadow of bitterness, who shall blame him?
I have lived so much alone, have had to think and do for myself so many years while Kate has been away, that perhaps I'm not 'like other girls; but the respect I feel for you would be injured if I thought you strove to guide or govern me through others; and of one thing be sure, Steven, I must honor and respect and look up to the man I marry, love or no love.
But we can't go on like this. How can we?" "I could." "Well, I can't. That's what it means to me. That's what it means to a man. If we're going to be straight we simply mustn't see each other." "Do you mean for always? That we're never to see each other again?" "Yes, if it's to be any good." "Steven, I can bear anything but that. It can't mean that." "I tell you it's what it means for me.
"And Papa knew it then. And he knows it now how awful." "It isn't as awful as Steven Rowcliffe thinks. He doesn't really know what's wrong with her. He doesn't know she's in love with him." "Poor Ally. What's the good? He isn't in love with her." "He isn't now," said Gwenda. "But he will be." "Not he. It's you he cares for if he cares for anybody." "I know. That's why I'm going." "Oh, Gwenda "
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