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Updated: July 6, 2025
John Hirst, in order apparently to win a sixpence which lay upon the table; while Mr. Hughling Elliot imposed silence upon his section of the audience by his fascinating anecdote of Lord Curzon and the undergraduate's bicycle. Mrs. Thornbury was trying to remember the name of a man who might have been another Garibaldi, and had written a book which they ought to read; and Mr.
Elliot were becoming more and more set upon the struggle. Mrs. Thornbury, seeing that St. John did not wish to talk, resumed her knitting. "Lightning again!" Mrs. Flushing suddenly exclaimed. A yellow light flashed across the blue window, and for a second they saw the green trees outside. She strode to the door, pushed it open, and stood half out in the open air.
When she had heard what one of the million voices speaking in the paper had to say, and noticed that a cousin of hers had married a clergyman at Minehead ignoring the drunken women, the golden animals of Crete, the movements of battalions, the dinners, the reforms, the fires, the indignant, the learned and benevolent, Mrs. Thornbury went upstairs to write a letter for the mail.
"When they see us falling out of aeroplanes they get some of their own back, I expect," he remarked. "You fly?" said old Mr. Thornbury, putting on his spectacles to look at him. "I hope to, some day," said Arthur. Here flying was discussed at length, and Mrs.
Thornbury shook her head slightly but made no reply, and pressing Evelyn's hand she went on down the passage. Impelled by a strong desire to hear something, although she did not know exactly what there was to hear, she was making her way to the Flushings' room. As she opened their door she felt that she had interrupted some argument between husband and wife. Mrs.
In 1828 Turner went to Rome by way of Nismes, Avignon, Marseilles, Nice, and Genoa; and this year painted his "Ulysses Dividing Polyphemus," of which Thornbury says: "For color, for life and shade, for composition, this seems to me to be the most wonderful and admirable of Turner's realisms." Ruskin calls it his central picture, illustrating his perfect power.
She told them that for some days Hughling Elliot had been ill, and the only doctor available was the brother of the proprietor, or so the proprietor said, whose right to the title of doctor was not above suspicion. "I know how wretched it is to be ill in a hotel," Mrs. Thornbury remarked, once more leading the way with Rachel to the garden.
If one's a man, the only confidences one gets are from young women about their love affairs. But the lives of women of forty, of unmarried women, of working women, of women who keep shops and bring up children, of women like your aunts or Mrs. Thornbury or Miss Allan one knows nothing whatever about them. They won't tell you. Either they're afraid, or they've got a way of treating men.
On inquiry how the sisters had been carried through the day, I found it thus: Everything was in the houses which was needed for dinner. After dinner a lady from Thornbury came and bought one of my Narratives and one of the Reports, and gave three shillings besides. About five minutes afterwards the baker came to the Boys' Orphan House.
The ladies were left alone now, surrounding The Times which lay upon the floor. Miss Allan looked at her father's watch. "Ten minutes to eleven," she observed. "Work?" asked Mrs. Thornbury. "Work," replied Miss Allan. "What a fine creature she is!" murmured Mrs. Thornbury, as the square figure in its manly coat withdrew. "And I'm sure she has a hard life," sighed Mrs. Elliot.
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