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Updated: June 9, 2025
"But of course I can't tell." "They trust him so implicitly," said Matt. "I know," said the doctor. "And I know that he's entirely devoted to them. The fact is, Putney's a very dear friend of mine." "Oh, excuse me " "No, no!" The doctor stayed Matt's apologies. "I understand just what you mean. He disliked their father very much.
It appears from the paper that young Putney's wife had left him, and there was some sort of row about the children. The old boy we struck at Cornford will probably be charging the absconding wife with killing Putney the first thing we know!" "Charge Mrs. Congdon with killing her husband! O my God!" wailed Archie. "Control yourself, my dear boy! One would infer from that item that Mrs.
I remained a full hour under cover; but as no fresh approaches added to my mystery and fear, I sallied forth, and kept the route to Putney's, with ears erect and expectant pulses. I had gone but a quarter of a mile, when I discerned, through the gathering gloom, a black, misshapen object, standing in the middle of the road.
Elbridge felt a consolatory quality in Putney's resentment, and Putney, already busy with the potentialities of the future, was buoyed up by the strong excitement of what had actually happened rather than finally cast down by what he had missed.
Munger's bad faith in that was certainly unimportant compared with her part in poor Mr. Putney's misfortune. That was the worst thing; that's what I can't forgive." Mr. Peck said nothing to this, and Annie, somewhat daunted by his silence, proceeded. "I've had the satisfaction of telling her what I thought on both points. But Ralph Mr.
Why, doctor, on account of Mr. Putney what took place last night." "Yes? What was that?" "What was that? Why, his strange behaviour his his intoxication." "Was he intoxicated? Did you think so?" "Why, you were there, doctor. Didn't you think so?" Annie looked at him with as much astonishment as Mrs. Munger. The doctor laughed again. "You can't always tell when Putney's joking; he's a great joker.
It's been a very queer campaign; three Gentiles toiling for a saint against the elect, and bringing them all over at last. We've got a paper, signed by a large majority of the members of the church the church, not the society asking Mr. Peck to remain; and Putney's gone to him with the paper, and he's coming round here to report Mr. Peck's decision.
"There wouldn't have been a loose piece of crockery on this side of the table if I hadn't got my tea in time." "Oh, I was listening to Annie's share in the conversation," said Mrs. Putney; and her husband was about to say something in retort of her thrust when a tap on the front door was heard. "Come in, come in, Doc!" he shouted. "Mrs. Putney's just been helped, and the tea is going to begin."
But she did not tell her so; it would have been useless. Mrs. Putney's note was an invitation to a family tea for the next evening. Putney met Annie at the door, and led her into the parlour beside the hall. He had a little crippled boy on his right arm, and he gave her his left hand.
She listened with so keen a relish for the report of Putney's sayings that Annie felt as if she had been turning the affair into comedy for Lyra's amusement. "Oh dear, I wish I could hear him! I thought I should have died last night when he came back, and began to scare everybody blue with his highly personal remarks. I wish he'd had time to get round to the Northwicks."
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