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Updated: May 9, 2025
'To be sure she is, replied Wardle. 'She is at Osborne's Hotel in the Adelphi at this moment, unless your enterprising friend has run away with her since I came out this morning. 'You are reconciled then? said Perker.
Pickwick, looking up at the moon, which was shining brightly. 'So much the worse, returned Wardle; 'for they'll have had all the advantage of the moonlight to get the start of us, and we shall lose it. It will have gone down in another hour. 'It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate in the dark, won't it? inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'I dare say it will, replied his friend dryly. Mr.
The old woman, however, seemed to have no wish for concealments, saying at once: "I never had but one husband, Mrs. Wardle; but I'll tell you. I've always gone by the name of Prichard ever since my son.... But I never told you of him neither! It is he I would forget...." This disturbed her made her take the caressing hand restlessly from Dave's head, to hold and be held by the other.
Bishop Wright indeed was puzzled to account for the heat of his manner, and in recounting the interview later to Elder Wardle, he threw out an intimation about strong drink. "To tell you the truth," he said, "I suspicion he'd jest been putting a new faucet in the cider barrel."
'tis easy To beget great deeds; but in the rearing of them The threading in cold blood each mean detail, And furze brake of half-pertinent circumstance There lies the self-denial. I spent but one other day in Dorset after my walk out to Tarn Regis, and then took train in the morning for London. I believe I have said before that Doctor Wardle, my sister's husband, was prosperous and popular.
Winkle, the Christmas guest of Mr. Wardle; and there is indeed something Dickensian in his union of domesticity with exuberance. He jumped about me, barking like a small battery, under the impression that I was going for a walk; but I could not, alas, take him with me on a stroll to Palestine.
During the next few days much perturbation was evinced by the Pickwickians at their leader's continual absence from the society of his admiring friends, and it being unanimously resolved that he should be called upon to explain himself, Mr. Wardle invited the "full circle" to dinner again at Osborne's Hotel to give him the opportunity. After the decanters "had been twice sent round" Mr.
The supper was ready laid, the chairs were drawn round the table, bottles, jugs, and glasses were arranged upon the sideboard, and everything betokened the approach of the most convivial period in the whole four-and-twenty hours. 'Where's Rachael? said Mr. Wardle. 'Ay, and Jingle? added Mr. Pickwick. 'Dear me, said the host, 'I wonder I haven't missed him before.
Sam Weller lighted a blazing fire in the room, and took up his dinner; a bowl of punch was carried up afterwards, and a grand carouse held in honour of his safety. Old Wardle would not hear of his rising, so they made the bed the chair, and Mr. Pickwick presided. A second and a third bowl were ordered in; and when Mr.
He seemed afraid this might be interpreted to Mrs. Prichard's disadvantage; for he added, recovering gravity: "Not that I blame her for it, mind you!" "Do you hear that, Gwen?" said Sister Nora. "Mrs. Picture's jealous of Granny Marrowbone.... I must tell you about that, Mrs. Wardle. It's really as much as one's place is worth to mention Mrs. Prichard to Mrs. Marrable.
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