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If I hadn’t taken your part against Blazing Bosville, you wouldn’t be now taking tea with me.’ ‘It is true that you struck me in the face first; but we’ll let that pass. So that man’s name is Bosville; what’s your own?’ ‘Isopel Berners.’ ‘How did you get that name?’ ‘I say, young man, you seem fond of asking questions: will you have another cup of tea?’ ‘I was just going to ask for another.’
"He what—?" His father was staring at him now with pure amazement. "But that doesn’t make sense," he added as if to himself. "No? I think it does, suh. Kitchell wouldn’t have dared to raid the Range if he were goin’ to stay in this country, would he? And after such a raid he’d head south. You believe that much or you wouldn’t be here waitin’ for him now.
“Well; Belle Worthington does possess the virtue of candor,” said Hosmer amused and folding the letter. “That’s about all there is, except a piece of scandal concerning people you don’t know; that wouldn’t interest you.” “But it would interest me,” Thérèse insisted, with a little wifely resentment that her husband should have a knowledge of people that excluded her.
She glanced towards this childlike person and saw from his stealthy manner that he had more to impart. He walked towards the kitchen door, saw no one, and came back to Mary. "There ain’t a man in this Gawd-forsaken country wouldn’t lope at the chance to die for her—but the women!" Leander’s pantomimic indication of absolute feminine antagonism was conclusive.
That seems to be what he wants.” “A month ago he wouldn’t have asked more than that of you,” observed Carroll. “And you didn’t feel like obliging him then.” The implication that Irving had worsted him galled Westby. “Oh,” he retorted, “the best of jokes will wear out. Kiddy was a perfectly good joke for a while—” Carroll annoyed him by laughing.
The discourse then, by an easy transition, turns upon the spirit which glows within the bosom of Felix, upon which point Felix himself becomes eloquent, and relates a thrilling anecdote of the time when he used to sit up till two o’clock in the morning reading French, and how his mother used to say, ‘Felix, you will make yourself ill, I know you will;’ and how he used to say, ‘Mother, I don’t care—I will do it;’ and how at last his mother privately procured a doctor to come and see him, who declared, the moment he felt his pulse, that if he had gone on reading one night more—only one night more—he must have put a blister on each temple, and another between his shoulders; and who, as it was, sat down upon the instant, and writing a prescription for a blue pill, said it must be taken immediately, or he wouldn’t answer for the consequences.
It was only when coming back, carving knife and fork in hand, that she spoke again. “If I hadn’t trusted you I wouldn’t have married you.” Bowed under the overmantel, Mr Verloc, holding his head in both hands, seemed to have gone to sleep. Winnie made the tea, and called out in an undertone: “Adolf.” Mr Verloc got up at once, and staggered a little before he sat down at the table.
“He bragged so little about him once you wouldn’t believe he had a brother,” replied Carroll. “I don’t see that he brags much more about him now.” “Well, I see it, and it annoys me,” retorted Westby rudely. “I think I’ll see if I can have my seat changed. I’d rather sit at Scabby’s table.” Mr. Randolph, however, the head of the Upper School, refused to grant Westby’s petition.
She was anxious to please him, and kept asking if the potatoes were seasoned right and if his corn were tender, and if he wouldn’t have another cup of coffee.
You remember, I invited him to my daughter’s wedding; I offered him drink, but he wouldn’t take it; he said: ‘I don’t drink as much as you gentry; you gentry swill like bitterns.’ What a magnate! a milksop made of pastry flour!137 He wouldn’t drink, so we poured it down his throat; he cried, ‘This is an act of violence!’ Just wait; I’ll pour it into him out of my bucket!”