A horseman, in whom they recognized Mr. Morsfield, passed, clattering on the road behind them.
‘Some woman here about,’ Lady Charlotte muttered. Weyburn saw him joined by a cavalier, and the two consulted and pointed whips right and left.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
As well ask (women) how a battle-field concerns them!
Boys who can appreciate brave deeds are capable of
doing them
Careful not to smell of his office
Chose to conceive that he thought abstractedly
Consign discussion to silence with the cynical closure
Convictions we store—wherewith to shape
our destinies
Death is only the other side of the ditch
Didn’t say a word No use in talking about feelings
Enthusiast, when not lyrical, is perilously near to
boring
He took small account of the operations of the feelings
Her duel with Time
Hopeless task of defending a woman from a woman
I hate old age It changes you so
Ignorance roaring behind a mask of sarcasm
Men bore the blame, though the women were rightly
punished
Never nurse an injury, great or small
No love can be without jealousy
Old age is a prison wall between us and young people
Orderliness, from which men are privately exempt
People were virtuous in past days: they counted
their sinners
Professional Puritans
Regularity of the grin of dentistry
That pit of one of their dead silences
The beat of a heart with a dread like a shot in it
The good life gone lives on in the mind
The shots hit us behind you
The spending, never harvesting, world
The terrible aggregate social woman
Venus of nature was melting into a Venus of art
[The End]
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The Project Gutenberg Etext Lord Ormont and his Aminta,
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