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Updated: July 15, 2025
Toky disapproved, was utterly disgusted; he lost his implicit faith in his master's wisdom, but he adopted a manner at once so magnanimous and charming that Boswell set to work and planned future gifts of appreciation for his servant. No other woman came to the apartment; Boswell shrank from them, not bitterly or resentfully, but sensitively.
"If I could only explain!" she once said to him as they sat facing each other across the table that Toky had laid so artistically. "When I feel the deepest my words seem shut in a cage; only a few get through the bars. I really believe people all feel the same about their little victories.
Three hours and you, Toky!" Boswell and Farwell were sitting in front of the grate, upon which the wood lay ready to light. Their faces were pale and haggard, but their eyes turned to Priscilla without shame or doubt. "There is much to talk about," said Boswell with his ready friendliness; "Max your Farwell and mine has told me " "After dinner, dear friends. I am hungry, bitterly hungry and cold!"
Poor Boswell's rites comprised a devouring appetite for reading and a rather happy talent for turning off a short story as unique and human as he was himself. After Priscilla Glenn arrived, Toky, as the servant was called, was tested to the uttermost. Never before had Boswell introduced a woman into the sphere sacred to Man.
Boswell gasped, with every sacred thing at stake. "I have come." "For what Max?" "To to thank you, if I can. To to tell you my story." In the outer room Toky artistically held the dinner back. The honourable master and his strange but equally honourable friend must not be disturbed.
Something was happening; but after a time Boswell laughed as Toky had never heard him laugh; so it was well, and the dinner could bide its time. Then Priscilla came, wet and white-faced, but with the "shine-look" in her eyes that Toky, despite his prejudices and profession, had noted and respected. "We will have the dinner now, Mees?" as if Toky ever considered her to that extent! "I will see Mr.
"I've mislaid my account," Boswell replied, the look that Toky watched for stealing over his thin face; "but, roughly speaking, I should say that, with the interest added, about fifty dollars, perhaps a trifle more." Priscilla threw back her head and laughed merrily. "I can understand why people say your style is so absorbing," she said presently; "you make even the absurd seem probable."
Boswell." "He has honourable friend." "My friend, Toky. The honourable friend is mine, also! And, oh! the flowers, Toky! There are no roses like the June roses. How wonderfully you have arranged them! A rose should never be crowded." Toky grinned helplessly. "Tree hours I take to make look beautifully. One hour for each rosy. That why it look beautifully." "Yes, that is why it looks beautifully.
Even Toky hailed her appearances now with frank pleasure, for she, and she alone, brought the rare, sweet smile to the master's face and gave a meaning to the artistic meals that were planned. "I think, my Butterfly," Boswell often said to her, "that you have soared to glory through suffering and gore! But it is the soaring and the glory that matter, after all.
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