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Updated: September 13, 2025
The coupe tipped over onto the curb and the ladies were badly shaken and the poodle was cut by flying glass, or the ladies were cut by the flying poodle, I forget which. Mr. Watterson and his party emerged from the crush under the escort of a police officer who directed the finish of the tour. Their destination was the police station.
It was clear that she did not sentimentalize Hicks's case; and Staniford had some doubt as to the value she set upon what he had done, even now she had recognized it. He said, "I think you overestimate my service to him, possibly. I dare say the boat could have picked him up in good time." "Yes, that's what the captain and Mr. Watterson and Mr. Mason all said," assented Lydia.
"Smell that!" he said, and frowned as darkly as a man of so little eyebrow could. At this senseless defiance Staniford, in spite of himself, broke into another laugh, and even Captain Jenness grinned. Mr. Watterson sat with his head drawn as far back as possible, and with his nose wrinkled at the affront offered it.
Watterson aside with his left hand, and in default of specific orders the latter allowed him to mount to the deck again. Hicks stayed himself a moment, and lurched to where Staniford and Dunham sat with Lydia. "What I wish say Miss Blood is," he began, "what I wish say is, peculiar circumstances make no difference with man if man's gentleman.
Everything was serenely moving in the Wilson camp, when like a thunderclap out of a clear sky broke the story of the disagreement between Colonel Harvey, Marse Henry Watterson, and the Governor of New Jersey. I recall my conversation with Governor Wilson on the day following the Harvey- Watterson conference at a New York club.
"He has wit, facts, dates," said Douglas, in extenuation of his own disinclination to enter upon the famous joint debates, and, when Douglas returned to Washington after the debates were over, he confessed to the young Henry Watterson that "he is the greatest debater I have ever met, either here or anywhere else."
"Henry Watterson," he said, "I want to talk to you seriously about this third-term business. I will not deny that I have thought of the thing thought of it a great deal." Then he proceeded to relate from his point of view the state of the country and the immediate situation.
One of the historical dinners of New York, which no one will forget who was there, was just after the close of the Civil War, or, as my dear old friend, Colonel Watterson, called it, "The War between the States." The principal guests were General Sherman and Henry W. Grady of Atlanta, Ga.
Sahwah rose in the seat and looked as if she were about to cast herself headlong from the car. Mrs. Watterson took a firm hold of her coat and pulled her back into the seat. "Sit right where you are, Margery Anderson!" she said. "We will let you out when we turn you over to your uncle in Chicago and not before." Sahwah looked petrified. Margery Anderson! "You've made a mistake," she said.
Sahwah looked at her with instant suspicion. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And where are you taking me?" Mrs. Watterson smiled again, somewhat uncertainly this time. There is something about Sahwah's direct gaze that is a trifle disconcerting. "I am a friend of your uncle's" she told the falsehood glibly "and I am taking you back to him." "My uncle?" echoed Sahwah, wonderingly.
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