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He can hardly expect me to reveal my findings to you." "My dear Sara " began Mr. Wrandall. "As this is a rather intimate conference, Mr. Smith," interrupted Sara, with a gracious smile for her father-in-law, "I fancy we have nothing to gain, one way or another, by recriminations. You have already consulted Mr. Carroll, and I have talked it over with Mr. Wrandall.
We're dreadful snobs, Brandy, the whole lot of us. Sara was quite good enough for a much better man than my brother. She really couldn't help the worsteds, you know. I'm very fond of her, and always have been. We're pals. 'Gad, it was a fearful slap at the home folks when Challis justified Sara by getting snuffed out the way he did."
"His right arm was in a sling; his face, thin and wan with suffering, wore an expression of anxiety and alarm which deepened momentarily as the narrative proceeded. "'How is Bianca? he asked, upon its conclusion, the quiet tone telling nothing of the profound solicitude that filled his breast. "'Much the same, returned Sara Vittoria, the mother.
When she sat him down at his little garden gate, he put the question that had been seething in his mind all the way down the shady stretch they had traversed. "Have you ever seen Hetty Glynn, the English actress?" Sara was always prepared. She knew the question would come when least expected. "Oh, yes," she replied, with interest. "Have you noticed the resemblance?
Here I've wasted a whole morning darning stockings and talking to you!" The outburst that followed this naive confession brought uneasy Sara to her sister's side; and with a hand on one of those restless, twitching little shoulders, she managed to keep her respectably quiet through the rest of the call. As the guests went down the village street it was funny to hear their comments.
She was for months to live, to eat and sleep and dream to that rumbling from the Ypres salient, to waken when it ceased or to look up from her work at the strange silence. But it was new to her then, and terrible. "Do they still shell this this town?" she asked, rather breathlessly. "Not now. They have done their work. Of course " he did not finish. Sara Lee's heart slowed down somewhat.
It bore a curiously bare, deserted aspect, the waves riding and falling sluggishly on either side of its black, tarred planking, Sara stared at it incredulously, then an exclamation of sheer dismay burst from her lips. "The boat! Look! It's gone!" "Gone?" Garth's eyes sought the landing-stage, then swept the vista of grey-water ahead of them. "Damn!" he ejaculated forcibly. "She's got adrift!"
I got my work to do. That nix of a house girl left last night. Such sass, too! I'm better off doing my work alone." Sara, poor dear, could not keep a servant, and, except for the instigation of her husband and son, preferred not to. Cooks rebelled at the exactitude of her household and her disputative reign of the kitchen.
Sara, with a becoming instinct of meekness, took her favourite seat on the fender, and at the feet of the two men, looking up humbly, began to explain herself with that lightness of phrase only possible to those who have a profound knowledge of their subject.
My very dear friend, ... John Thelwall is a very warm-hearted, honest man; and disagreeing as we do, on almost every point of religion, of morals, of politics, and philosophy, we like each other uncommonly well. He is a great favorite with Sara. Energetic activity of mind and of heart, is his master feature.
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