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Updated: July 31, 2024
"You set out to get my berth, and you got it. And I set out to get Binhart, to get the man your whole push could n't round up and I 'm going to get him!" "Blake," said Copeland, very quietly, "you are wrong in both instances." "Am I!" "You are," was Copeland's answer, and he spoke with a studious patience which his rival resented even more than his open enmity.
But Roberta chose to walk every day and all days, and the more stormy the weather the surer was she to scorn all offers of a place beside Ruth in the brougham. Louis's comment on the return of his sister to her work at Miss Copeland's school was much like that of Ruth. "Sorry vacation's over, Rob? That's where I have the advantage of you.
I had been shown, at Copeland's, patterns of beautiful design, in faultless perspective, which are causing the ugly old willow to wither out of public favour; and which, being quite as cheap, insinuate good wholesome natural art into the humblest households. When Mr. and Mrs.
A great city it seemed to me then, and a seething vortex of business as well as a whirl of gaiety, as I saw it in Washington Street, and in a promenade concert at Copeland's restaurant in Tremont Row.
"Come round to Copeland's then. We'll celebrate your success in a becoming manner." When Oscar and Harry reached home they were met by Maud, who flourished in her hand what appeared to be a note. "What is it, Maud?" asked Oscar. "A love-letter for me?" "Don't flatter yourself, Oscar. No girl would be so foolish as to write you a love-letter. It is an invitation to a party on Saturday evening."
Leonard Copeland's mood was sullen, not to say surly.
The girl who was to have played it Ethel Revell is ill. Do you know any of Miss Copeland's girls? Olivia Cartwright plays Petruchio." "Olivia Cartwright? Is she to be in some play? She's a distant cousin of mine." "It's a school play Miss Copeland's school, where Rob teaches, you know. The play is to be in the Stuart Hendersons' ballroom."
He would find that bloodless little shrimp and put him face to face with a few plain truths. He would confront that anemic Deputy-Commissioner and at least let him know what one honest man thought of him. Even when Blake stood before Copeland's brownstone-fronted house, the house that seemed to wear a mask of staid discretion in every drawn blind and gloomy story, no hesitation came to him.
The name had a certain fascination which entwined it around the memory, and when flaming posters appeared on the walls, announcing that Captain Gardner, of the village of Muir, was raising a company of "Mounted Riflemen" for Copeland's regiment, four young men, myself being one of them, hired a livery team and drove to that modest country four-corners to enlist.
We want to root up gigantic trees in a primeval forest, and to tear their huge branches asunder in our convulsive grasp; and the utmost that we can do for the relief of our passion is to knock over an easy-chair, or smash a few shillings' worth of Mr. Copeland's manufacture.
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