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"He is absent on his rounds. May I ask why you question me in this way, Miss Krill?" asked Sylvia, coldly. "Because I have much to say to you which no one else must hear," was the calm reply. "Dear me, how hot this fire is!" and she moved her chair so that it blocked Sylvia's way to the door. Also, Miss Krill cast a glance at the window.
"You shall." "Then go; go now, while I can say it as I should." "The good Lord bless and help you, Sylvia." She gave him both her hands, but though he only pressed them silently, that pressure nearly destroyed the victory she had won, for the strong grasp snapped the slender guard-ring Moor had given her a week ago.
The rustic pleas'd me with the concern he had for my Philander; oh my charming brother, you have an art to tame even savages, a tongue that would charm and engage wildness itself, to softness and gentleness, and give the rough unthinking, love; 'tis a tedious time to-night, how shall I pass the hours? To SYLVIA. Say, fond love, whither wilt thou lead me?
Fiske's tall, stooping figure, stopped and turned expectantly. The older woman came down the steps towards the fugitive, apparently unaware of the biting winter wind on her bared shoulders. Quite at a loss, and suspiciously on her guard, Sylvia waited for her, searching the blurred pale face with impatient inquiry.
The thought of poor dead Annie Coulson flashed into Philip's mind. Could he be playing the same game with Sylvia? Philip set his teeth and tightened his lips at the thought of it. They had stopped talking; they had seen him already, or his impulse would have been to dodge behind the wall and avoid them; even though one of his purposes in going to Haytersbank had been to bid his uncle farewell.
It's ben so cold and homely 'twa'n't plausible for 'em to go out." Mrs. Lem patted her pompadour. "I can see a thousand Christmas trees from this window," said Sylvia. "Yes, it's real sightly. Judge Trent has just the same view from his room. It's his favorite." Sylvia's face fell. "When does he come?" she asked. "Oh, he comes and goes all summer. He don't make no long stay except in August."
"I'm poorer than ever now," he groaned to himself, "and ignorant, and mean, and dirty, and a beast in every sense of the word; I can't ever atone for the way I've treated her for the way I've but if I could only find her and try, oh, I've got to! Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia "
After an interlude played by sole Colbert, Winter shot an amused question at his companion. "What's at the back of your head with regard to the artist and Miss Sylvia?" he said. "It's high time she spoke to a real man. These Fenleys are animals, all of 'em. John Trenholme is a genius, and a good-looking one." "I met the girl in a corridor a while ago, and she was rather disconsolate, I thought."
'There's a chance, I suppose, for iverything i' life as we have not seen with our own eyes as it may not ha' happened. Kester may say next as there's a chance as your father is not dead, because we none on us saw him 'Hung, he was going to have said, but a touch of humanity came back into his stony heart. Sylvia sent up a little sharp cry at his words.
"I haven't told you my story yet," I said. "Some day I will when you feel you know me well enough for us to exchange confidences." There was more than a hint of invitation in this. After a silence, she said: "One's instinct is to hide one's troubles." "Sylvia," I answered, "let me tell you about us.
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