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When she emerged from the underground railway station into the muddy London street, she had to wrestle with the second-best umbrella that endeavoured to turn inside out. It was a ten minutes' walk to the Munros' little flat, and that she was carrying the large bunch of violets in a paper cone added to her difficulties in the wind and the rain; but she was wearing an old coat and skirt, and she felt it would be an unnecessary extravagance to take a cab. Ellen Munro would provide shoes and stockings while her own were being dried in the kitchen. She knew that Ellen was at home only to herself on the periodical occasions when she came up from the suburb for tea and a talk over old times.
But Dr. Osborne's smile was suddenly checked when Mr. Ashurst said very quietly that as his wife's health was dearer to him than anything on earth, and that there was no sacrifice which he would not make to accomplish its restoration, he should find means of sending her to Germany, and keeping her there until it was seen what effect the change had on her.
A night club is never for the old. Grey-haired people should always be at home after midnight. And there should be no card-playing. Dancing one would have of course, and music of the finest. And wine, and many pretty women, and a certain quietness, and invisible waiters, and a perfume of roses.... As I write, I ask myself: “Why should I not establish a night-club different from all the others?” It would be so easy to be 282different; it would be so difficult for me not to be different.... One wants space, of course: I hate being crushed against very full-bosomed ladies.... Oh, and above all, I would have a big room set apart for the hour that comes after dawn. Empty bottles, spilt wine, stale tobacco-smoke, cigarette ends, all kinds of untidiness: how horrible these are in the sun of a May or June morning! Yes, we would all go at dawn into another room, a room coloured green, with narcissi, and jonquils and hyacinths on the tables: a room with open windows: a room with fruit spread invitingly: a room where one could still be gay and in which one need not feel sordid and spiritually jaded and spiritually unclean.... If you have the right mental outlook, you will never feel spiritually unclean after a night of riot, but all our London night clubs in pre-war days seemed to conspire together to make enjoyment unhealthy, gaiety a matter for after-regret, and exaltation a little disgraceful.... If someone will lend me a lot of money (or give it me—why shouldn’t he?) I will found a night club that will knock all the others into a cocked hat....
to be conscious of her annoyance. At last she threw down a volume of songs with a bang on the piano, and burst into tears. To her astonished resentment George took no notice. It was the first time since their marriage that her tears had not melted his heart. In a passion of mortification she rushed from the room. With her usual self-righteous consideration she never exacted her ayah's attendance the last thing at night, so there was no need to check her distress in her bedroom. Still crying she quickly undressed and got into bed, and then she lay waiting for George to come in and say he was sorry, to own himself in the wrong.
“Squire McBee was left to bring on the prisoner, whom he mounted on one of the outlaw’s horses, and, though thus encumbered, he kept nearly up with the party. When about two miles from the camp, Big Harpe was again discovered on a ridge a short distance ahead, and some of the party halloed to him to stop, upon which he abandoned his women to their fate, and dashed on alone—Leiper, in the meantime, making an ineffectual shot at the fugitive. Tompkins and Lindsey were left in charge of the two captured women, while Leiper, Christian, Grisson, and Steigal renewed the chase with increased animation. Leiper not being able to draw his ramrod, owing to its swollen condition from the rain of the preceding night, had exchanged guns
"Forgive you?" asked the wife, in her old sweet voice. "Why should I not forgive you? Only, you must pity me. Think! six years of agony, to return and find—I thought until now that it was easier to die than live," she continued, feebly. "It would save so much misery if death should free you from me."
When we came on the stage together for our clog dancing he was apparently as cool and smiling as ever, but I saw danger in his eye. Mine didn't quail, I don't think; and as we stood side by side, our arms and shoulders touching, while the clogs clattered and we sang our best songs full of good hits, I knew that the final struggle was coming that night, and I knew, too, that it would be on the trapeze. Naturally I took fire too, and cared no more for breaking up the Valbella Brothers and interfering with Sam Stacker's plans, nor, indeed, for anything except that Ted should not get the better of me. The jealous devil possessed us both. The performance went off first-rate. The Dagmar was ill again for a wonder—this time a real bona fide illness—and Jenny had to take her place. She came out all in clouds of tulle, and danced a ballet divertissement called "La Marguerite," in which she pulled a daisy to pieces to see if she was loved. She danced it beautifully, and fairly brought the house down, and when she got through she had half a dozen bouquets of flowers, and a great big trapeze made of flowers was tilted over the heads of the orchestra to her. I had had nothing to do with it, but she thought I had, and turned to me as I stood in the wings and courtesied so prettily that it fairly maddened Ted, who saw it all, and thought, too, I had sent it to her, and thereby broken our agreement. I didn't choose to explain then and there how it was, and the next minute it was our turn to go on the stage.
??Were they useful to you???
1.Artabazus’ steps were directed to the tent of the women. With heavy tread he strode in the panoply of war. At the corner of the tent his foot came in rough contact with a soft object and to his amazement he discovered it to be the body of his guard. A hasty examination assured him that the body was lifeless. Filled with forebodings, he hastily parted the flaps and gazed within the tent. His eyes first fell upon the prostrate form of his eunuch, then with a swift glance he surveyed the women, and he knew what had taken place during his absence.
2.My heart was beating rather excitedly. I felt small, trivial and inadequate, like an intruder on some grave exchange of confidences.>
"Oh! ah! I'd forgotten that," Woodroffe said, looked down at the knees of his trousers, and added with a faint blush: "Might get myself some new togs out of capital? I'm sure to want 'em sooner or later. Only things are such a filthy price just now. They rook you about thirty quid for a dress suit."
The story of the Harpes is more than that of mere criminals. They were arch-criminals among criminals, apparently loving murder for its own sake. There was a time when the whole of Kentucky and Tennessee was terrorized at the possibility of their appearance at any hour in any locality. Samuel Mason (or Meason) the Wilsons, and others, measured up more nearly to the standard of true highwaymen and pirates. If they had lived in England their careers would have closed on Tyburn Hill or at the rope’s end on “Execution Dock.” The stories of James Ford show that his real classification must forever remain largely a mystery.