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Updated: May 22, 2025
Widgery moved as if to follow, and hesitated. "You'd better make yourself scarce," he said to Mr. Hoopdriver. "I shan't do anything of the kind," said Mr. Hoopdriver, with a catching of the breath. "I'm here defending that young lady."
Do come and sit here and be nice. This is Father Luke Widgery Mr. Docksey, of the Record. Man: Delighted. Priest: Delighted. Woman: Now, Father Luke, I've just got to come to your sermon to-morrow. What's it about? Priest: Modern vice. Woman: How charming! I read the last one it was lovely. Priest: Unless you have a ticket you'll never be able to get in. Woman: But I must get in.
It appears that Widgery was extremely indignant to find Mrs. Milton left about upon the Fareham platform. The day had irritated him somehow, though he had started with the noblest intentions, and he seemed glad to find an outlet for justifiable indignation. "He's such a spasmodic creature," said Widgery. "Rushing off! And I suppose we're to wait here until he comes back! It's likely.
But the queerest part of his vision came when Wade sent him out in a bath-chair to get fresh air. The Davidsons hired a chair, and got that deaf and obstinate dependent of theirs, Widgery, to attend to it. Widgery's ideas of healthy expeditions were peculiar.
"That's right!" said Sir Mallaby Marlowe. "Work while you're young, Sam, work while you're young." He regarded his son's bent head with affectionate approval. "What's the book to-day?" "Widgery on Nisi Prius Evidence," said Sam, without looking up. "Capital!" said Sir Mallaby. "Highly improving and as interesting as a novel some novels.
"I'm dashed if I know," said Sam frankly. The question struck him as a mean attack. He wondered how Widgery would have met it. Probably by smiling quietly and polishing his spectacles. Sam had no spectacles. He endeavoured, however, to smile quietly. "Don't laugh at me!" roared Mr. Bennett. "I'm not laughing at you." "You are!" "I'm not! I'm smiling quietly." "Well, don't then!" said Mr. Bennett.
"Where can we get a conveyance?" asked Widgery of two small boys. The two small boys failed to understand. They looked at one another. "There's not a cab, not a go-cart, in sight," said Widgery. "It's a case of a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse." "There's a harse all right," said one of the small boys with a movement of the head. "Don't you know where we can hire traps?" asked Widgery.
Milton's simple but becoming grey dress, with the healthy Widgery's Norfolk jacket and thick boots, with the slender Dangle's energetic bearing, nor with the wonderful chequerings that set off the legs of the golf-suited Phipps. They are after us. In a little while they will be upon us. You must imagine as you best can the competitive raidings at Midhurst of Widgery, Dangle, and Phipps.
That note was shown to few, and then only in the strictest confidence. But on Friday evening late came a breathless Man Friend, Widgery, a correspondent of hers, who had heard of her trouble among the first.
"Of course," said Widgery, "their starting from Midhurst on the Chichester road doesn't absolutely bind them not to change their minds." "My dear fellow! It does. Really it does. You must allow me to have enough intelligence to think of cross-roads. Really you must. There aren't any cross-roads to tempt them. Would they turn aside here? No. Would they turn there?
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