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Updated: May 21, 2025
She straightened herself and looked around for more work. The large room, the "chamber" of the old and quiet house in which she and Miriam had stayed on when in March the army had withdrawn from Winchester, held three wounded. Upon the four-post bed, between white valance and tester, lay a dying officer.
And Doris paused overcome by the beauty of the bed, of the curtains falling from the tester gracefully as laburnum or acacia branches in June. "The rooms are beautiful, but a little cheerless." "Doris, Doris, you don't deserve to lie there! The windows of course must be opened, fresh air must be let in, and fires must be lighted.
You don't know what she is!" my visitor cried. "I think I know what she is not. She is not a friend, as you call her, if she encourages you in the wrong, if she does n't help you. No, I have no patience with her," I declared; "I don't like her, and I won't go to see her!" Mr. Tester looked at me a moment, as if he were too vexed to trust himself to speak.
Apart from the foregoing, there is little to be said about the measuring apparatus. As has been stated, accuracy of result depends in this connection, as in all others, upon careful supervision and sound and accurate construction, and this the tester can only positively insure by exhaustive inspection in the one case and careful deliberation in the conduct of the other.
The old man's hat was lying on a broken-down bureau. An armchair stuffed with straw and a couple of chairs completed the list of ramshackle furniture. From the tester of the bed, tied to the ceiling by a piece of rag, hung a strip of some cheap material in large red and black checks. No poor drudge in a garret could be worse lodged than Father Goriot in Mme. Vauquer's lodging-house.
The Dublin men seemed to be flagging a little, and Tester and Buchan, having apparently decided that Olva was himself again, played their accustomed game. But what had happened to Dune? There he had been his old casual superior self during the first half of the game. Now he was that inspired player that the Harlequin match had once revealed him. Whymper had spoken to him at half-time.
At that moment the Abbey sounded half-past eight. "Good Lord," said Hunter, "only quarter of an hour more, and we've done nothing the whole of hall. Let's rout out Lovelace and go and rag Rudd." In three minutes Rudd was under the table, with Mansell seated on his chest. It was rather unfortunate that Gordon should have chosen Tester to have a study with.
Yet he had learn from Tester that the soul is man's most sacred possession, and must not be shown to the crowd; that he must always mask his true emotions, except in the company of those who could understand them. So he went down to breakfast telling Collins the latest joke from The London Mail. On his way back to the studies he ran into a fag. "Caruthers, Chief wants to see you in his study."
They all agreed that the men would not own up, and the general opinion was that someone in Christy's was responsible. Discussion raged fiercely as to who it was. Gordon was all for it being Isaacs, Lovelace for Everington, Hunter for Mead. The point was being debated, when Tester and Bradford came in. "Hullo, come in," shouted Gordon, "we are having a great fight about this.
It was not the most fatuous speech I had ever heard; it had the effect of being the most modest; and it gave me an odd idea, and especially a new one, of the condition in which, at any time, one might be destined to find Lady Vandeleur. Ambrose Tester did n't go away after I had told him that I would comply with his request.
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