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3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
to who?
|
{
"answer_start": [
71
],
"text": [
" His Majesty King Louis XV of France"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
how many interviews did he have?
|
{
"answer_start": [
250
],
"text": [
" what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding."
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
how long?
|
{
"answer_start": [
177
],
"text": [
"each of half an hour's duration"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
how many statements?
|
{
"answer_start": [
403
],
"text": [
"The two sets of statements"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
was lydie acting normal?
|
{
"answer_start": [
469
],
"text": [
"Lydie, certainly had been very strange"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
who was his son in law?
|
{
"answer_start": [
736
],
"text": [
"Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law,"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
who told him something during the first interveiw?
|
{
"answer_start": [
251
],
"text": [
"what his daughter had told him in the first interview"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
what was his son in laws occupation?
|
{
"answer_start": [
785
],
"text": [
"esignation as Comptroller-General of Finance"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
is he still in that occupation?
|
{
"answer_start": [
777
],
"text": [
"in his resignation"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
was lydie married?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1109
],
"text": [
"er husband had av"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
did he give reason for his quitting?
|
{
"answer_start": [
840
],
"text": [
"without giving any reason"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
did his son in law take his wife?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1124
],
"text": [
"avowedly the intention of deserting her"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
who conducted the affairs?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1268
],
"text": [
"his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
for how long?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1326
],
"text": [
" for him for over a year"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
did she receive a gift?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1555
],
"text": [
" make her a free gift of his château"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
from who
|
{
"answer_start": [
736
],
"text": [
"Milor Eglinton"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
of what?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1580
],
"text": [
"his château and lands of Vincennes"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
did she want this gift?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1679
],
"text": [
"This gift she desired not to accept"
]
}
|
3zak8w07i4edl8eiwr83extp1k4u03
|
CHAPTER XXII
PATERNAL ANXIETY
M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of France, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate interviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy trying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first interview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the second. And he was not succeeding.
The two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.
Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause.
It was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.
Milor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as Comptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for so sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to be ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action as she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared to tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of deserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating his post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had allowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to extricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position, as best she might.
The only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard to her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his château and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were close upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.
|
was lydie behavior shocking to anyone?
|
{
"answer_start": [
469
],
"text": [
"Lydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner, totally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very unusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized its cause. "
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Where did Guy run home to?
|
{
"answer_start": [
820
],
"text": [
"There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms,"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What kind of bag did he have?
|
{
"answer_start": [
929
],
"text": [
"pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag,"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What was Guy's last name?
|
{
"answer_start": [
36
],
"text": [
"Guy Waring"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Where did he arrive too late?
|
{
"answer_start": [
36
],
"text": [
"Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late."
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Who was Guy asking about?
|
{
"answer_start": [
86
],
"text": [
"Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express."
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Was he stylish?
|
{
"answer_start": [
200
],
"text": [
"He was a sharp-looking gentleman,"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Where was he headed to?
|
{
"answer_start": [
430
],
"text": [
"\"He had his things labelled,\" the porter said, \"for Plymouth.\" "
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
When was the next train scheduled to go?
|
{
"answer_start": [
763
],
"text": [
"the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available. "
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What could Guy have dared?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1077
],
"text": [
"If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Why?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1155
],
"text": [
" and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty "
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What would happen if he took legal measures?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1288
],
"text": [
"For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery."
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
For how many reasons did he not want to do that?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1404
],
"text": [
"from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons;"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Which train had Nevitt gone on?
|
{
"answer_start": [
86
],
"text": [
"Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Who said Nevitt had a weird look in his eyes?
|
{
"answer_start": [
137
],
"text": [
"The porter at the labelling place \"minded the gentleman well.\" He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What did Guy say mark a man?
|
{
"answer_start": [
377
],
"text": [
"The eyes mark the man."
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What did the porter look at for the next train?
|
{
"answer_start": [
562
],
"text": [
"The porter, consulting the time-table "
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
How did he know where Nevitt was going?
|
{
"answer_start": [
430
],
"text": [
"\"He had his things labelled,\" the porter said, \"for Plymouth.\" "
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Who was muddle-headed?
|
{
"answer_start": [
562
],
"text": [
"The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters,"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
Where was the porter?
|
{
"answer_start": [
136
],
"text": [
" The porter at the labelling place"
]
}
|
3z4xg4zf48rnk1dgw0w5rjybe2s8xv
|
CHAPTER XXIII.
GUY IN LUCK.
Guy Waring reached Waterloo ten minutes too late. Nevitt had gone on by the West of England express. The porter at the labelling place "minded the gentleman well." He was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a queer look about the eyes, and a dark moustache curled round at the corners.
"Yes, yes," Guy cried eagerly, "that's him right enough. The eyes mark the man. And where was he going to?"
"He had his things labelled," the porter said, "for Plymouth."
"And when does the next train start?" Guy inquired, all on fire.
The porter, consulting the time-table in the muddle-headed way peculiar to railway porters, and stroking his chin with his hand to assist cerebration, announced, after a severe internal struggle, that the 3.45 down, slow, was the earliest train available.
There was nothing for it then, Guy perceived, but to run home to his rooms, possessing his soul in patience, pack up a few things in his Gladstone bag, and return at his leisure to catch the down train thus unfavourably introduced to his critical notice.
If Guy had dared, to be sure, he might have gone straight to a police-station, and got an inspector to telegraph along the line to stop the thief with his booty at Basingstoke or Salisbury. But Guy didn't dare. For to interfere with Nevitt now by legal means would be to risk the discovery of his own share in the forgery. And from that risk the startled and awakened young man shrank for a thousand reasons; though the chief among them all was certainly one that never would have occurred to any one but himself as even probable.
|
What did Guy say excitedly?
|
{
"answer_start": [
320
],
"text": [
"\"Yes, yes,\" Guy cried eagerly,"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Which tree did people assemble under?
|
{
"answer_start": [
725
],
"text": [
"Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,-"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What was the name of the Governor?
|
{
"answer_start": [
855
],
"text": [
"were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson "
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Did the council discuss something with him?
|
{
"answer_start": [
855
],
"text": [
"were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What?
|
{
"answer_start": [
921
],
"text": [
"the question of removing the troops from the city"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Did the council assure him of anything>
|
{
"answer_start": [
976
],
"text": [
"assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What did the Governor do about it?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1056
],
"text": [
"the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Who was Attucks?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1332
],
"text": [
"It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Where was he seen?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1332
],
"text": [
"It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf,"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Who taunted soldiers?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1479
],
"text": [
" that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What didthe redcoats do about it?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1572
],
"text": [
"the redcoats avenged the insults with blows"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Was the result serious?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1621
],
"text": [
"nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What day of the week were Amos and Jim up early?
|
{
"answer_start": [
34
],
"text": [
"Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What was the date?
|
{
"answer_start": [
34
],
"text": [
"Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Did they expect conflict that day?
|
{
"answer_start": [
103
],
"text": [
"but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens. "
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What was Hardy's last name?
|
{
"answer_start": [
275
],
"text": [
"During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
When Jim mentions "the barber" who is he talking about?
|
{
"answer_start": [
674
],
"text": [
"and then ceased even to think of the apprentice"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
What's his name?
|
{
"answer_start": [
275
],
"text": [
"During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Where does Amos think Hardy is?
|
{
"answer_start": [
590
],
"text": [
"He must be at work"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
That was at noon. What time was it when they found out about Hardy?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1227
],
"text": [
"At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant. \n"
]
}
|
3zv9h2yqqd7mu42kae5nyjctpcy3w5
|
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.
Amos and Jim were early astir on Monday morning, the fifth of March, but before noon came both were convinced that the threatened trouble would blow over without the slightest semblance of a conflict between the soldiers and the citizens.
During the forenoon they had not so much as heard of Hardy Baker, or that faction to which he had allied himself, and Jim said, with a quiet chuckle of satisfaction:
"I reckon the barber got as much of a lesson as he needed Saturday afternoon, and has given over trying to set right the wrongs of the people."
"He must be at work, or we should have heard something regarding him," Amos replied, and then ceased even to think of the apprentice.
Shortly after noon those assembled under the Liberty Tree,--and there were quite as many as had gathered on Friday and Saturday,--were told that the Council had discussed with Governor Hutchinson the question of removing the troops from the city, and assured him the people would be satisfied with nothing else.
It was also said the Governor had refused to do anything regarding the matter; but that Samuel Adams had publicly declared the troops should be sent away, and that without loss of time.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Amos and Jim heard once more from Master Piemont's assistant.
It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others, near Wentworth's Wharf, and that Hardy had distinguished himself by taunting with cowardice, a squad of soldiers, until the redcoats avenged the insults with blows; but nothing more serious than a street brawl was the result.
|
Who had Hardy been seen with besides Attucks?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1332
],
"text": [
"It was told under the Liberty Tree that he had been seen in company with Attucks, the mulatto, and half a dozen others"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
who was compelled?
|
{
"answer_start": [
52
],
"text": [
"Ayala was compelled"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
to do what?
|
{
"answer_start": [
52
],
"text": [
"Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
who would be angry?
|
{
"answer_start": [
189
],
"text": [
"Sir Harry would be angry,"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
would someone be disgusted?
|
{
"answer_start": [
219
],
"text": [
"Lady Albury would be disgusted,"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
whom?
|
{
"answer_start": [
219
],
"text": [
"Lady Albury would be disgusted, "
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
why?
|
{
"answer_start": [
251
],
"text": [
"were she to go"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
Who was hunting?
|
{
"answer_start": [
319
],
"text": [
"Colonel Stubbs would come"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
how long before he arrived?
|
{
"answer_start": [
289
],
"text": [
"There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come,"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
was the pony on accident?
|
{
"answer_start": [
997
],
"text": [
"He has got the pony on purpose"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
do people like being disappointed?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1029
],
"text": [
"and nobody likes being disappointed"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
Who was uneasy?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1174
],
"text": [
"he was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
did her friend know what to do?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1223
],
"text": [
" her friend did not know what to make of it,"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
who had a secret?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1113
],
"text": [
"Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
Who may not speak his name?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1408
],
"text": [
"Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love."
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
did she keep her secret?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1293
],
"text": [
"Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence."
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
What happened if there was no secret?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1408
],
"text": [
"Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
Who did she want to discuss with?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1593
],
"text": [
"and his love, all night long with Lady Albury,"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
Must it remain a secret?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1675
],
"text": [
" In the meantime the secret must be a secret."
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
What would be the death of her?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1752
],
"text": [
"o have her love disappointed,-"
]
}
|
3x87c8jfv6bluordok7ie22jts8qsa
|
CHAPTER LV.
IN THE CASTLE THERE LIVED A KNIGHT.
Ayala was compelled to consent to remain at Stalham. The "I don't think" which she repeated so often was, of course, of no avail to her. Sir Harry would be angry, and Lady Albury would be disgusted, were she to go,--and so she remained. There was to be a week before Colonel Stubbs would come, and she was to remain not only for the week but also for some short time afterwards,--so that there might be yet a few days left of hunting under the Colonel. It could not, surely, have been doubtful to her after she had read that letter,--with the postscript,--that if she remained her happiness would be insured! He would not have come again and insisted on her being there to receive him if nothing were to come of it. And yet she had fought for permission to return to Kingsbury Crescent after her little fashion, and had at last yielded, as she told Lady Albury,--because Sir Harry seemed to wish it. "Of course he wishes it," said Lady Albury. "He has got the pony on purpose, and nobody likes being disappointed when he has done a thing so much as Sir Harry." Ayala, delighted as she was, did not make her secret known. She was fluttered, and apparently uneasy,--so that her friend did not know what to make of it, or which way to take it. Ayala's secret was to herself a secret still to be maintained with holy reticence. It might still be possible that Jonathan Stubbs should never say another word to her of his love. If he did,--why then all the world might know. Then there would be no secret. Then she could sit and discuss her love, and his love, all night long with Lady Albury, if Lady Albury would listen to her. In the meantime the secret must be a secret. To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!
|
Who wanted to confess?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1720
],
"text": [
" To confess her love, and then to have her love disappointed,--that would be death to her!"
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
What is an instrument for prediction?
|
{
"answer_start": [
399
],
"text": [
"Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction,"
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
What uses these ideas?
|
{
"answer_start": [
590
],
"text": [
"Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science"
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
Who used this school of thought?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1139
],
"text": [
"Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development"
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
who else?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1231
],
"text": [
"with later twentieth century contributors, William James "
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
and?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1274
],
"text": [
"William James and John Dewey."
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
What is a philosophical topic?
|
{
"answer_start": [
619
],
"text": [
" philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, "
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
Another?
|
{
"answer_start": [
619
],
"text": [
" philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language,"
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
And?
|
{
"answer_start": [
620
],
"text": [
"philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, "
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
How about another?
|
{
"answer_start": [
619
],
"text": [
" philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning,"
]
}
|
3bxqmrhwkzyaomlplwv1cu024nzum8
|
Pragmatism is a philosophical tradition that began in the United States around 1870. Its origins are often attributed to the philosophers William James, John Dewey, and Charles Sanders Peirce. Peirce later described it in his pragmatic maxim: "Consider the practical effects of the objects of your conception. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object."
Pragmatism considers thought an instrument or tool for prediction, problem solving and action, and rejects the idea that the function of thought is to describe, represent, or mirror reality. Pragmatists contend that most philosophical topics—such as the nature of knowledge, language, concepts, meaning, belief, and science—are all best viewed in terms of their practical uses and successes. The philosophy of pragmatism "emphasizes the practical application of ideas by acting on them to actually test them in human experiences". Pragmatism focuses on a "changing universe rather than an unchanging one as the Idealists, Realists and Thomists had claimed".
Pragmatism as a philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s. Charles Sanders Peirce (and his Pragmatic Maxim) is given credit for its development, along with later twentieth century contributors, William James and John Dewey. Its direction was determined by The Metaphysical Club members Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, and Chauncey Wright, as well as John Dewey and George Herbert Mead.
|
When did this movement start?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1075
],
"text": [
"philosophical movement began in the United States in the 1870s."
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What is 110?
|
{
"answer_start": [
0
],
"text": [
"110 is a cartridge-based film format"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What kind of film?
|
{
"answer_start": [
9
],
"text": [
"cartridge-based film format "
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What type of cartridge?
|
{
"answer_start": [
367
],
"text": [
" housed in a plastic cartridge"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
When did it start being sold?
|
{
"answer_start": [
63
],
"text": [
" It was introduced by Kodak in 1972"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What is its width?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1183
],
"text": [
"The 110 film width is 16 mm"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What was it first sold with?
|
{
"answer_start": [
939
],
"text": [
"The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
Did people buy a lot of them?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1056
],
"text": [
"became immediately popular"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What was a competitor of that type of camera?
|
{
"answer_start": [
1103
],
"text": [
"competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
How many pictures could be taken with one roll?
|
{
"answer_start": [
222
],
"text": [
"There were 24 frames per cartridge"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
What company sold it?
|
{
"answer_start": [
64
],
"text": [
"It was introduced by Kodak"
]
}
|
3maod8e57qa8n80k22lo9go63ygxnz
|
110 is a cartridge-based film format used in still photography. It was introduced by Kodak in 1972. 110 is essentially a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format. Each frame is , with one registration hole. There were 24 frames per cartridge that occasionally enabled the user to capture an extra image due to production variations.
The film is fully housed in a plastic cartridge, which also registers the image when the film is advanced. There is a continuous backing paper, and the frame number and film type are visible through a window at the rear of the cartridge. The film does not need to be rewound and is very simple to load and unload. It is pre-exposed with frame lines and numbers, a feature intended to make it easier and more efficient for photofinishers to print.
Unlike later competing formats, such as disc and APS film, processed 110 negatives were returned in strips, without the original cartridge. The 110 cartridge was introduced by Kodak in 1972 with Kodak Pocket Instamatic cameras. The new pocket-sized cameras became immediately popular, and soon displaced competing subminiature cameras, such as the Minolta 16 series, from the market. The 110 film width is 16 mm. A four frame strip measures 111 mm.
|
Was it based off an earlier product?
|
{
"answer_start": [
119
],
"text": [
"a miniaturised version of Kodak's earlier 126 film format"
]
}
|
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