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But you are lidtle oldt, too? Tventy-five years makes a difference. Ah, I am gladt! Dell me, idt is Passil Marge, not zo?" He looked anxiously into March's face, with a gentle smile of mixed hope and doubt, and March said: "As sure as it's Berthold Lindau, and I guess it's you. And you remember the old times? You were as much of a boy as I was, Lindau. Are you living in New York?
"Very polite speech," I answer, peering through the garden's iron palings, "seeing that you have been with me these seven sad hours." "Ah, Señorita, it ees no use dthat I egsplain, you air zo fery heartless. I do not find myself possible to make you out. You haf pairhaps had too many tell you 'I loaf you' you care not any more.
Benjulia's head drooped in thought. The generous protest of the man whom he had injured, spoke in that outstretched hand. He looked at Ovid. "No!" he said and walked away. Leaving the street, he went round to Fairfield Gardens, and rang the bell at Mr. Gallilee's door. The bell was answered by a polite old woman a stranger to him among the servants. "Is Zo in the house?" he inquired.
The wretch speaks as calmly as if we sat in a Pullman car. Through all my fright and indignation I wonder what on earth's a "baranca" and forget to scream. "Now, Señorita, if I hold you not zo far out as you like, tell me."
"Zo will amuse you, I'm sure." Zo seconded the invitation by hiding the stick, and laying hold again on her big friend's coattails. He let the child drag him into the room, without noticing her. The silent questioning of his eyes had been again directed to Carmina, at the moment when she smiled.
But you are lidtle oldt, too? Tventy-five years makes a difference. Ah, I am gladt! Dell me, idt is Passil Marge, not zo?" He looked anxiously into March's face, with a gentle smile of mixed hope and doubt, and March said: "As sure as it's Berthold Lindau, and I guess it's you. And you remember the old times? You were as much of a boy as I was, Lindau. Are you living in New York?
But you may soothe my irritable nerves in another way, if you like." "How?" "Relieve me of these girls. Take them out with you. Do you mind?" Zo instantly jumped off her chair; and even Maria looked up from her book. "I will take them with pleasure. Must we ask my aunt's permission?" "We will dispense with your aunt's permission. She is shut up in her study and we are all forbidden to disturb her.
This applause served to reinstate the Baron a little in his own good opinion. He laughed too, though rather noisily than heartily, and suddenly became grave again. “Vat means zis, Bonker? Vat haf I done? Vy should zey treat me zo?”
"Prepare your lessons for to-morrow," she said. The girls produced their books. Maria's library of knowledge was in perfect order. The pages over which Zo pondered in endless perplexity were crumpled by weary fingers, and stained by frequent tears. Oh, fatal knowledge! mercifully forbidden to the first two of our race, who shall count the crimes and stupidities committed in your name?
Looking keenly with his little shining eyes at his visitor, he opened the letter, read it, and with the broadest Devon dialect, said 'Zo you mayne tu bee a peinter, doo 'ee? What zort of peinter? 'Historical painter, sir. 'Heestoricaul peinter! Why, ye'll starve with a bundle of straw under yeer head. Presently he read the note again. 'Mr.
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