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Updated: May 31, 2025
He would have said that he could walk, only he was rather afraid that if he said anything he might be sick. Besides, he didn't really want to walk; his shoulder was hurting him very much. He was so white about the cheeks and lips that Urquhart thought he had fainted.
Urquhart, who herself was happily married although, it was true, her merry, red-haired husband had the reputation of being a LITTLE too fond of the ladies, and though he certainly did not make such a paying concern of Yarangobilly as Mr. Glendinning of Dandaloo Mrs. Urquhart had whispered to Polly as they sat chatting on the verandah: "Such a DREADFUL man, my dear! ... a perfect brute!
Payne, while omitting nothing, renders such passages in literary language, whereas Burton speaks out with the bluntness and coarseness of an Urquhart. In his letter to Mr. Payne, 22nd October 1884, he says of Mr. Payne's translation, "The Nights are by no means literal but very readable which is the thing." He then refers to Mr.
Urquhart I really like; but he didn't show up well, I must own to be fair to the other, who is in the worse fix." "I am not so sure of that," I commented; "but go on." He seemed surprised. "Indeed, Colonel? Well," he resumed, "I being the sort of fellow they could talk before, a meeting was discussed.
Urquhart said, "Do, Margery," and Peter looked wistful, but declined. He wanted horribly badly to go with Urquhart; but loyalty hindered. Urquhart said he was going to Venice afterwards, to stay with his uncle Evelyn. "Good," said Peter. "Leslie and I are going to do Venice directly we've cleared Florence of its Objects of Beauty.
The question was how to arrange it without seconds that is, without breaking your orders and dragging in outsiders. For Mackenzie wanted blood at once, and for awhile Urquhart seemed just as eager. All of a sudden, when...." here he broke off suddenly, not wishing to commit himself. "Tell me only what you think necessary," said I. He thanked me. "That is what I wanted," he said.
They both felt it. Besides, he had had an excellent dinner. Five Creeks was poor, but it lived well. "Oh," laughed the guest, without merriment in his laugh, "you needn't waste pity on HIM, Miss Urquhart; he's all right. Rolls in fat never ailed a thing in his life might take the prize at a baby show. So they tell me. I have not seen him myself for a good while." "What!
And the opera began at half-past six. What was the date of his call to London? Could she find that letter? And should she hunt for it, or leave it vague? And then she thought of Martley. And then she blushed. Urquhart was a man of explosive action and had great reserve of strength.
M., and I b'lieve she topped the poll. By Jove! that blue gown makes 'em look just like ... what shall I say? ... like marble." "Does fortune smile?" asked Mahony of Henry Ocock as he passed the card-players: he had cut Urquhart short with a nod. "So his Excellency didn't turn up, after all?" "Sent a telegraphic communication at the last moment. No, I haven't seen her.
"You are behind the fair, Mr Urquhart," cried he, as they drew rein alongside; and his tone and his face were strangely cheerful, considering that his good employer of twenty years had been buried only yesterday as usual, within a few hours of his death. "But I suppose you have heard the news. What you haven't? Then I am the first to congratulate you," extending a cordial hand.
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