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A remark of Honoré made the night they watched in the corridor by Doctor Keene's door, about the younger's "right to exist," was but the echo of a conversation they had once had together in Europe.
The elder pinched and scraped to pay the younger's board; himself, according to a probable but rather untrustworthy account, brushing his own clothes that they might last longer, and supping often on dry bread. His only place of resort was the political club. One single pleasure he allowed himself the occasional purchase of some long-coveted volume from the shelves of a town bookseller.
Dr Jacob Mountain, first Anglican bishop of Quebec, also arrived shortly afterwards and was warmly greeted by the Roman Catholic prelate, who embraced him, saying, 'It's time you came to shepherd your own flock. Mountain was statesman and churchman in one. He had been chosen by the elder Pitt to be the younger's tutor and then chosen by the younger to be his private secretary.
He is to marry an heiress, and, when he has got her, up is to rise the elder brother! When did this elder brother show? Why, when the younger's scheme was blown, and all was up with him! Who shall tell me that the fellow hasn't been living in Seven Dials, or in a cellar dining off tripe and cow-heel until my younger gentleman was disposed of?
The younger's pride was struggling for mastery; but he conquered it and spoke again. "I wish to Heaven you could see it from another point of view than your own, Tom." "I have no point of view. You're rather exasperating, and don't seem to understand that, even if I might have changed my mind before, it's impossible now." "That's really only a foolish sort of pride. If I chose my words clumsily "
He rose from the table, and looked down with sad gaze at the younger's beautiful mask of a face. "God knows," he said, "God knows, Rupert, I do not so often inflict my presence upon you that you should be so anxious to show me how much better I should do to keep away. I admit nevertheless the justice of all you say.
There is, I believe, no good, concise, cheap handbook to English prosody; yet such a manual is greatly needed. The only one with which I am acquainted is Tom Hood the younger's Rules of Rhyme: A Guide to English Versification. Again, the introduction to Walker's Rhyming Dictionary gives a fairly clear elementary account of the subject. Ruskin also has written an excellent essay on verse-rhythms.
"I have not seen the man yet, either this morning or this evening," said the elder lady, as she drew the younger's arm within her own. "No, you have never seen him. I have no one's eyes but my own to test the matter. You have never seen him, and that is another reason why I think of the man as ghostly or unreal," whispered Salome.
There was a pause in which the elder doctor felt as if he saw the younger's uneasiness growing. "You'll forgive me for saying it, Doctor Isaacson, but but you don't understand women," said Hartley, at last. "You don't know how to take them." "Perhaps not," Isaacson said, with an apparent simplicity that sounded like humility. Doctor Hartley looked more at his ease.
She longed to take both boys to it. She was not angry now. Very likely she was delighted with the thought of the younger's prowess and generosity. "You are a very naughty, disobedient child," she said in an exceedingly peaceable voice. "My poor Mr. Ward! What a rebel to strike you! Let me bathe your wound, my good Mr. Ward, and thank Heaven it was no worse. Mountain!
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