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She rides astride all over those hills out there. I saw her one Sunday myself. Oh, she's a high-flyer, and I wonder how she does it. Sixty-five a month don't go far. Then she has a sick brother, too." "Live with her people?" Daylight asked. "No; hasn't got any. They were well to do, I've heard. They must have been, or that brother of hers couldn't have gone to the University of California.
He was just an ordinary everyday millionaire, with a modest little income of from three to four hundred a day; not a real, genuine high-flyer, with a thousand an hour! "I had to give up my frills and fixings, but I held on like grim death to the things that mattered. I guess there's something wrong about your army, if a man's got to have a fortune before he can be an officer!"
"See here, my jolly high-flyer, who told you my name?" demanded the son of the owner of the Bellevite, with a certain amount of indignation in his manner. "You did not, to be sure, though I asked you what it was." "What sort of a game are you trying to play off on me? I am an innocent young fellow of sixteen, and I don't like to have others playing tricks on me.
Alice wished that they had stayed at home; but she was polite and endeavored to make their visit agreeable. The son, called by his family "Bill," informed Charles that he was a judge of horseflesh, and would like to give his nags a try, having a high-flyer himself at home that the old gentleman would not hear of his bringing along. His actions denoted an admiration of me.
In Which Becky Revisits the Halls of Her Ancestors So the mourning being ready, and Sir Pitt Crawley warned of their arrival, Colonel Crawley and his wife took a couple of places in the same old High-flyer coach by which Rebecca had travelled in the defunct Baronet's company, on her first journey into the world some nine years before.
That was a bad failure of Green and Adams to-day. Adams was a pretty high-flyer, and a good many of the men on the 'Change have been prophesying this crash." "What Adams is that?" asked Mrs. Conway. "Oliver Adams. He lives on the square, you know, in that large white house with the lions in front." Edna pricked up her ears. "Is it Clara Adams's father?" she asked.
"My Valders-Roan has never seen his match yet, and never will, according to my reckoning," answered John Garvestad. "Ho! ho!" shouted the young fellow, with a mocking laugh; "that black mare is a hand taller at the very least, and I bet you she's a high-flyer. She has got the prettiest legs I ever clapped eyes on." "They'd snap like clay pipes in the mountains," replied Garvestad, contemptuously.
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