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"I was hoping you might bring some news not particularly about her, though, but some news. I am just pining for a real, choice bit." She passed the chocolates again. Bess took one, but her sister shook her head. "Well, as to news," remarked Bess, "we have heard that Sid Wilcox has a new machine." This was news indeed, after what that youth had said to Cora that very day.

She was bored when too minute an account was given of the Fussell family, of the anxieties of Charles concerning Naples, of the movements of Mr. Wilcox and Evie, who were motoring in Yorkshire. Margaret could not bear being bored.

"Helen, you must tell me whether this thing worries you." "If what?" said Helen, who was washing her hands for lunch. "The W.'s coming." "No, of course not." "Really?" "Really." Then she admitted that she was a little worried on Mrs. Wilcox's account; she implied that Mrs. Wilcox might reach backward into deep feelings, and be pained by things that never touched the other members of that clan.

Reflecting on her strange experience while in New City, seated late that same afternoon on the broad veranda of her handsome home, Cora had one gratifying thought. No one whom she knew had seen her while Sid Wilcox was in possession of her car and of her. Feeling this assurance she decided not to mention to any one at home the fact of his having stolen the ride.

"Ida is too apt to be influenced by Sid Wilcox. I thought she had seen enough of the consequences of such folly." "Oh, Ida is ambitious in that line," replied the cool, deliberate Jack. "Well, let us start," suggested Cora. "I have quite some ground to cover. Dr. Bennet has agreed to find and fetch Clip." "Has, eh? Smart fellow, Doc Bennet!

On this same plantation at Snow Hill, Wilcox county, Alabama, a county where, according to the last census, there are twenty-four thousand colored people and about six thousand whites, there is now a school with two hundred pupils, five teachers from Tuskegee, and three school buildings. The school has forty acres of land.

But it held hints of local life, personal intercourse, as even Mrs. Munt was to discover. "I want a house," she confided to the ticket boy. "Its name is Howards Lodge. Do you know where it is?" "Mr. Wilcox!" the boy called. A young man in front of them turned round. "She's wanting Howards End." There was nothing for it but to go forward, though Mrs.

"No, we don't," said Margaret, with a sudden revulsion. "We lead the lives of gibbering monkeys. Mrs. Wilcox really We have something quiet and stable at the bottom. We really have. All my friends have. Don't pretend you enjoyed lunch, for you loathed it, but forgive me by coming again, alone, or by asking me to you." "I am used to young people," said Mrs.

Every one moving. Is it worth while attempting the past when there is this continual flux even in the hearts of men? Helen roused her by saying: "What a prosperous vulgarian Mr. Wilcox has grown! I have very little use for him in these days. However, he did tell us about the Porphyrion. Let us write to Mr. Bast as soon as ever we get home, and tell him to clear out of it at once."

"Their Emperor wants war; well, let him have it," was the opinion of a clergyman. She smiled at such incongruities. "Next time," she said to Mr. Wilcox, "you shall come to lunch with me at Mr. Eustace Miles's." "With pleasure." "No, you'd hate it," she said, pushing her glass towards him for some more cider.