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Updated: June 3, 2025
I saw that he was at fault: I saw that Margaret Wilmot's conduct was quite as inexplicable to him as it had been to me. "'Mr. Dunbar's a very rich man, he said, at last; 'and money generally goes a good way in these cases.
Arthur Lovell listened, with a strange expression upon his face. If Henry Dunbar was pale, Henry Dunbar's legal adviser was still more so. The jurymen stared aghast at the coroner, as if they had been awe-stricken by his impertinence towards the chief partner of the great banking-house of Dunbar, Dunbar, and Balderby.
Little Dorothea Macmahon was sent to England with a native nurse, and placed under the care of her maternal relatives; and Henry Dunbar's beautiful wife became queen of the best society in the city of palaces, by the right of her own rank and her husband's wealth. Henry Dunbar loved her desperately, as even a selfish man can sometimes love for once in his life.
Dunbar's gaze was riveted on the face of the burglar, and he took his underlip between his teeth, as was his habit in suppressing emotion. "Of course there is some infernal trick about this; but how do you account for it? It is beyond Bedney's sleight of hand," said the District Solicitor. "I think I understand how it came here.
Tramp's head rested on his knee as he stroked it. It was here her hand had touched it and here The scent of roses was heavy in the sunshine, the bees hummed; he sat there in a hazy dream, waiting for the door to open and the joy of his life to begin. He was dragged roughly enough out of his dream. Miss Dunbar's landau drove to the door to take her to church.
Dunbar's face; his strange resemblance to the Chiaramonti Tiberius, which she had studied and copied so carefully.
Dunbar's face flushed suddenly, and his brows contracted as if even his self-possession were not proof against the unpleasant memories of the past. "No," he said, with determination; "I never quarrelled with him." "There had been no cause of quarrel between you?" "I don't understand your question. I have told you that I never quarrelled with him."
The only thing that troubled him was the doubt and anxiety of his good friends, the Dunbars, when he did not return to the house. "Squire Pope," he said, turning to that official, "will you do me a favor?" "Ahem! Explain yourself," said the squire suspiciously. "Will you call at Mr. Dunbar's and tell them where I am." Now, for obvious reasons, the squire did not like to do this.
At last a little collection of these verses reached William Dean Howells, and Mr. Dunbar's star at once became ascendant. He is said to be a full-blooded Negro, the son of slave-parents, and his best work is in the dialect of his race. A volume of his poems is soon to be published by Dodd, Mead & Co. and in an introduction to it Mr. Howells writes as follows: "What struck me in reading Mr.
Dunbar brought her her meals at regular intervals, but Edith never took the slightest notice of her. She could not help observing at times in Mrs. Dunbar's manner, and especially in her look, a whole world of sorrowful sympathy, but after her unmistakable championship of Wiggins, she could not feel the slightest confidence in her. At length one morning Wiggins once more called upon her.
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