Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 17, 2025
John Ford himself opened the door to me. He began with an apology, which made me feel more than ever an intruder; then he said: "I have not spoken to my granddaughter I waited to see Dan Treffry." He was stern and sad-eyed, like a man with a great weight of grief on his shoulders. He looked as if he had not slept; his dress was out of order, he had not taken his clothes off, I think.
I've been an exile seven years, I suppose I shall always be I've had punishment enough; but if you think I am a rascal, I'll go and give myself up." He turned on his heel. "Stop! I beg your pardon! I never meant to hurt you. It isn't easy for me to eat my words," Mr. Treffry said wistfully, "let that count for something." He held out his hand. Harz came quickly back and took it.
If you had to do anything that would make them hate you, you would do it all the same, if it helped your work; that's fine it's what I can't do. It's it's everything. Do you like Uncle Nic?" The young painter looked towards the house, where under the veranda old Nicholas Treffry was still in sight; a smile came on his lips.
Nicholas Treffry had found him overworked in an hotel, and had engaged him with the caution: "Look here, Dominique! I swear!" To which Dominique, dark of feature, saturnine and ironical, had only replied: "Tres biens, M'sieur!" Harz and his host sat in leather chairs; Herr Paul's square back was wedged into a cushion, his round legs crossed.
Beasts and men alike stood still, drinking in the air-sweet with snows and dew, and vibrating faintly with the running of the water and the rustling of the leaves. The night had played sad tricks with Mr. Nicholas Treffry; his hat was grey with dust; his cheeks brownish-purple, there were heavy pouches beneath his eyes, which stared painfully.
Then seeing her face, he slipped away again. She finished her letter and went out to the carriage. Mr. Treffry was seated under the hood. "Shan't want you," he called out to the groom, "Get up, Dominique." Christian thrust her letter into his hand. "Give him that," she said, clinging to his arm with sudden terror. "Oh! Uncle! do take care!"
Harz bowed; but for some reason he felt annoyed, as if he had been asked to part with something personal. "I thank you," he said. A gong sounded. "You'll stay and have a snack with us?" said Mr. Treffry; "the doctor's stopping." Gathering up his paper, he moved off to the house with his hand on Greta's shoulder, the terrier running in front. Harz and Christian were left alone.
Cut on both floors by corridors, the Villa was divided into four divisions; each of which had its separate inhabitants, an arrangement which had come about in the following way: When old Nicholas Treffry died, his estate, on the boundary of Cornwall, had been sold and divided up among his three surviving children Nicholas, who was much the eldest, a partner in the well-known firm of Forsyte and Treffry, teamen, of the Strand; Constance, married to a man called Decie; and Margaret, at her father's death engaged to the curate of the parish, John Devorell, who shortly afterwards became its rector.
"But looking at the question broadly, sir," said Dawney; "if a husband always lets his wife do as she likes, how would the thing work out? What becomes of the marriage tie?" "The marriage tie," growled Mr. Treffry, "is the biggest thing there is! But, by Jove, Doctor, I'm a Dutchman if hunting women ever helped the marriage tie!"
Christian put her hands up to her ears, and ran out into the air. What was she about to do, then to leave him dying! On the following day Harz was summoned to the Villa. Mr. Treffry had just risen, and was garbed in a dressing-suit, old and worn, which had a certain air of magnificence. His seamed cheeks were newly shaved. "I hope I see you well," he said majestically.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking