Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
Kennedy, who seemed to be afflicted with some difficulty in speaking, and whose bow to our hero had hardly done more than produce the slightest possible motion to the top of his hat, hereupon muttered something which was taken to mean an assent to the proposition as to Wednesday's dinner.
It seemed a satisfaction, a salve to her wounded vanity, to be able to make him feel, to punish him a little for all her pain. "Think! This time next week. I shall be safe in peaceful England, where we have not to combat the unknown." "No?" "No. Marraine and I have settled everything. I take the Wednesday's Nord Express after we get back to Petersburg."
Nothing else happened worthy of record. The evening passed as usual. There was no change in Sir Percival, and no change in Miss Fairlie. The Wednesday's post brought with it an event the reply from Mrs. Catherick. I took a copy of the document, which I have preserved, and which I may as well present in this place. It ran as follows
The father wanted to change the boy's name; it would bring him luck. The bishop, horrified at such paganism, asked the boy's name. When he heard that it was John he was furious. "John, a Hebrew name for God's Grace. How dare you ask for a better one? Do you want him called 'hoe' or 'fork'? For your foolish request, take a year's penance, Wednesday's Lenten diet and Friday's bread and water."
He couldn't help hoping for more next day, and did his best to secure it by the words he wrote in reply. But Wednesday's missive was merely a merrily piquant description of the way she was trying her returning strength by one expedition after another about her room.
You see, Lady Hilda, Wednesday's a half-holiday at Pilbury Grammar School; so every second week I run down for the day to visit an old friend of mine, who's also an acquaintance of yours, I believe, Ernest Le Breton. He's married now, you know, and has got a mastership at the Pilbury Grammar School. 'Then you know Mr.
Perhaps, then, Fanny Meyrick might take the hint and leave us soon. But Bessie gave no sign, and I relapsed into a somewhat impatient résumé of my own affairs. Yes: married quietly on Saturday; leave here on Monday morning train; take, yes, Wednesday's steamer.
Soon after this time I received from Mr. Coleridge the following letter. My ever dear Cottle, I will wait on you this evening at 9 o'clock, till which hour I am on "Watch." Your Wednesday's invitation I of course accept, but I am rather sorry that you should add this expense to former liberalities. Two editions of my Poems would barely repay you.
The proprietor had informed me that he was already provided with a leading article for Wednesday's publication, and my duties were therefore confined to the sub-editing of the news and the writing of a few editorial paragraphs. Suddenly Mr. Toulmin entered my room, and, without uttering a word, placed a telegram on the desk before me.
"We're from the same town," he explained. "That's why I must see him. He's the only man in London I know, and I've spent all my money. He said he'd give me some he owes me, as soon as I reached London. If I can't get it, I'll have to go home by Wednesday's steamer." And, complained bitterly, "I haven't seen the Tower, nor Westminster Abbey." In a moment, Ford's anxiety to meet Mr.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking