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Updated: June 9, 2025
A long, sad pause, in which his face expressed unutterable concern for his stomach, which he patted gingerly and with an assumption of pain. "Belly belong me too much sick." Another pause, which was an invitation to Denby to make suggestions. Then followed a long, weary, final sigh, and a "Me like 'm rum." Denby laughed heartlessly.
Piercing, hair-raising, unnatural as they were, Mr. Budlong recognized them. "My wife! Help! Murder! Hicks, where is she? Find a weapon and come with us!" "I gotta get supper," Hicks replied, heartlessly. Mr. Appel, Mr. Stott, and old Mr. Penrose dashed into their tents and dashed out carrying firearms that had been sealed by the Park officials, as is customary, while Mr.
Soror tua haud meretrix est, ye brute! He burst out laughing, after a doubtful and ululant fashion, I dare say; but he went home, took up his auld wife, and played 'Tullochgorum' some fifty times over, with extemporized variations. The next day he had to translate a passage from Tacitus; after executing which somewhat heartlessly, he did not open a Latin book for a whole week.
Passing through the Counties of Louth, Dublin, Londonderry, Monaghan, Tyrone, Donegal, and Fermanagh, I met with many farmers whose statements amply confirmed the words of the descendant of the great Sir Boyle Roche. These unhappy men had been divested of their last grievance, stripped of their burning wrongs, heartlessly robbed of their long-cherished injuries.
"And William sent the baby to West Kensington to escape infection?" "Took him, he did." "Against his wife's wishes?" "Na-o!" "You said she was dying for want of the child?" "Wouldn't she rayther die than have the kid die?" "Don't speak so heartlessly, child. Why does William not go straight home from the club? Does he go to West Kensington to see it?" "'Tain't a hit, it's an 'e. Course he do."
"Ah," sighed Annunziata, deeply, with another portentous head-shake, "I wish I knew." Maria Dolores laughed. "Sit down," she suggested, making room beside her on the moss, "and try to think." Annunziata sat down, curled herself up. "Something has happened to Prospero," she said, de profundis. "Oh?" asked Maria Dolores. "What?" She seemed heartlessly cheerful, and even rather amused.
He took Quinbey on board, took him to Boston, and helped him turn the nugget into cash fifty thousand dollars. Then Quinbey went home. Quinbey had been right about the money in the bank. It was a tidy sum to retain on deposit, and the bank officials had heartlessly refused to pay any of it out to Mrs. Quinbey.
What he could get rid of with scanter success, unfortunately, was the peculiar sharpness of his sense that, though mystified by his visible flurry and yet not mystified enough for a sympathetic question either his hostess had been, on the whole, even more frankly diverted: which was precisely an example of that newest, freshest, finest freedom in her, the air and the candour of assuming, not "heartlessly," not viciously, not even very consciously, but with a bright pampered confidence which would probably end by affecting one's nerves as the most impertinent stroke in the world, that every blest thing coming up for her in any connection was somehow matter for her general recreation.
At eleven he sent a poem to a weekly paper and was a little proud when he showed it to the family in print. When they heartlessly pointed out its flaws he was less hilarious. His father died when he was very young and he owed his training to his mother. He left school at thirteen and was first a lawyer's clerk and later found work in a counting-room. He was self-supporting at sixteen.
The noise of the fall resounded at the same moment as the rolling of Marguerite's carriage leaving the hotel. Madame de Belliere's Plate The blow had been the more painful on account of its being unexpected. It was some time before the marquise recovered herself; but once recovered, she began to reflect upon the events so heartlessly announced to her.
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