Kendall

“ Kendall finally reached that conclusion himself and, pulling a cap on to the back of his head, he sauntered along the hall and down the stairs and so out into the afternoon world, wincing now and then when his sore muscles protested and dimly oppressed with the emptiness of existence. Kendall’s condition of mind was, had he but known it, no uncommon one for the football player the day after a hard game and a defeat. One cares very little for bruises and weariness after a victory, but a defeat takes all the glory from them. ”

“ Little Arlette had been a bit of humor in his life—no more. He had been unconscious that she was anything more. But now in her catastrophe she loomed larger and assumed significance. His was a world of symbolisms, a religion of symbolisms. As his mother saw the hand of God in every event—the hand of God interposed with direct reference to herself—so Kendall, in a minor degree, and perhaps with something of unconsciousness, was subject to the same obsession. ”

“ And because he was so true to himself and his country, and because his art was so simple and so sincere—and he wrote from his very heart and soul—if for no other reasons, Kendall’s writings can never fail to be dear to the best of his countrymen; deserving, indeed, to be far more dear than they have yet become. ”

“ Kendall left his glass untouched while his eyes fixed themselves on the street, now becoming ever more rapidly hidden by the dusk. Many people were passing, habitués of the Quartier Latin; young men in uniform with girls on their arms, skylarking, humming the chorus of “Madelon”; old women making a last effort of the day to sell bright-colored Rintintins and Ninettes fabricated out of worsteds, those quaint little charms which were all the rage in Paris, and which were supposed to make one safe from Big Bertha and the bomb of the air raid. ”

“ Donald Kendall knew now that he could not go on indefinitely "enjoying" those accompaniments. He was beginning to love the player altogether too well to want to see her like this and be with her like this, and yet know that it would always be like this, nothing more, and not even this after she was free to live her own life.
And Donald Kendall believed that she would be free very soon now. He had seen John Gilmore many times during the winter and had watched him moving about and felt then that the feeble old gentleman could not live through till spring, surely not a month longer now. ”

“ KENDALL IS MISTAKEN Kendall sat in a corner of the barge as it rattled its way through clouds of dust back to Wissining. They had pulled his wrist into place again, bandaged it and put it back in a sling. Every bump of the barge’s weak springs made it throb painfully. But it was not his injury that Kendall minded. It was the knowledge that he had failed his fellows and the school. That was what hurt. He had lost the game, he told himself miserably. It had needed only that goal from the field to win, and he had missed it. ”

“ But it was pleasant, almost intoxicatingly pleasant, and Kendall went back to Clarke Hall in a mood far different from that in which he had left. The world no longer seemed dull or empty. It was, indeed, a very wonderful world, filled with many likable people and teeming with possibilities! Kendall’s feelings were reflected so plainly in his countenance when he entered Number 28 that Gerald, who had unexpectedly returned for supper and was entertaining George Kirk, viewed him in surprise. ”

“ He pushed Ken toward the dining-room. “In with you.”
Kendall obeyed apathetically, took his chair and began to eat automatically, without interest in his food. He had anticipated a sort of barbarous pleasure from his harshness toward Andree, but found it ashes in his mouth. He was ashamed of himself, and then ashamed of himself again for being ashamed. He had done right, exactly right, he insisted. She had deserved what he had given her, but nevertheless he was ashamed of himself. There are two identities in every man, the emotional, the sentimental, the natural—and the intellectual. ”

“ Annatanam said, "When the tent of a chieftain is lonely? There are others who grieve for the light that has fled, And one who waits here for you only!" "Go—leave me!" she cried. "I would fain be alone; I must stay where the trees and the wild waters moan; For my heart is as cold as a wave-beaten stone." Oh, the Beauty that was broke for Deloya! "Wahina, why weep o'er a handful of dust, When the souls of the brave are approaching? Oh, look to the fires that are lit for the just, And the mighty who sleep in Arrochin!" ”

“ He had heard Jacques one evening going from table to table—demanding of friends and strangers alike their judgment on a certain phase of the art of making love. Kendall had really been shocked and had looked for somebody to stand up and smite Jacques mightily, but everybody had laughed and answered according to their kind with a frankness equal to Jacques’s.... So now Kendall was apprehensive.
“A-ah!...” said Jacques again, and pointed at Andree. “I ask you if I should not find for you a girl, and you say no. Now I know why.... A-ah!...” He frowned at Andree and waggled his head. ”

“ Then he was driven through the holiday-making streets crowded with a populace in holiday humor to the barrière, and thence into the country. On every building waved an American flag, in every buttonhole was a tiny American flag, and the appearance of an American military automobile was the signal for applause and lifting of hats. Small boys shouted as small boys of all countries shout; friendly old gentlemen waved their canes; young women smiled broadly or demurely, invitingly or shyly. Kendall felt as if he were enjoying some sort of a triumph, as if this celebration were for him. ”

“ To her a foreigner had been a sort of freak of nature, a distressing accident. Anybody who was not English had been guilty of some sort of obscure offense against nature. Of course there were degrees of foreignness—some, as the Chinese, were more guilty than others—but it was a difference in degree and that was all. This was a basic fact to her, a part of her, and, without consciously instructing Kendall, she had impressed her way of thinking upon him until it was his own. He did not think of marriage with Andree any more than he would have thought of eating a rose.... ”

“ Then Mrs. Kendall turned and thrust her spoon like a sword at him. "Henry Kendall," she blazed, "shut right up and leave this room. Have you no sense? Go instantly, I say!" And the good Doctor went.
My recollections of that day are not very clear. The shoulder was in a bad condition—swollen, bruised, very painful. ”

“ Paul Kendall was a noble little fellow, and was already a great favorite on board, not only with the boys, but with the principal and the professors. Wilton knew that he had a great deal of influence, and it was important to secure him for their ticket. If he could tell others that Kendall was going for their men, it would induce many to join their party. The "favorite," though he was an honest, noble-hearted fellow, was still human, and a berth in the after cabin was a strong temptation to him.{49}
"I'm not going to say I'll vote for a fellow till I know who he is," added Kendall. ”

“ These poor women!...”
Bert made no reply. He was not the sort to voice sympathy if he felt it, nor was he the sort to be moved as Kendall was moved. He was more objective, less emotional—a trifle boisterous and swanking and not given to peering below the surface of events. It was his motto to take what came and make the best of it. On the whole, he was a careless, buoyant, thoughtless young American whose two great objects in life were to get on in the world and to have a good time. He had none of the scruples and inhibitions that made Kendall Ware more complex—not that he was unscrupulous ”

“ And you have borne a heavy one, My patient Ellen Ray.
At Dusk At dusk, like flowers that shun the day, Shy thoughts from dim recesses break, And plead for words I dare not say For your sweet sake. My early love! my first, my last! Mistakes have been that both must rue; But all the passion of the past Survives for you. The tender message Hope might send Sinks fainting at the lips of speech, For, are you lover—are you friend, That I would reach? ”

“ Not the reformation of a religion, but a reformation in the basic thought of the world—surely of America....”
“Whew!” exclaimed Kendall. “I follow you, I guess, but my feet are off the bottom ... and I can’t swim.”
“You can think, can’t you?” she said, a trifle tartly.
“I guess I feel more than I think,” he said.
“We all do.... We have to feel in order to think, and we have to feel in order to understand. Cold logic isn’t worth a snap of the fingers—really.... You’ve been getting something out of Paris, haven’t you? Feeling something? ”

“ KENDALL, TIMOTHY (fl. 1577) , verse-writer, son of William Kendall, by his wife Alice, was a native of North Aston, Oxfordshire. He was educated at Eton, and in 1572 was a member of Magdalen Hall, Oxford (Reg. Univ. Oxon., Oxford Hist. Soc., ii. 2, 38) . Leaving the university without a degree, he became a student at Staple Inn. In 1577 he published ‘Flowers of Epigrammes, out of sundrie the most singular authours selected, as well auncient as late writers. ”

“ Kendall's father died early, and the charge of his mother, his five brothers, and the business to which he succeeded devolved upon him, and for some years occupied him fully. He prospered, and in 1764 he married. His time and money were thenceforth spent in religious visits to various towns, in philanthropic pursuits, and in study. He and his wife together founded Kendall's almshouses at Colchester in 1791 for eight poor widows ”

“ It was a very laughable, but somewhat risqué, account of a conversation he had essayed with an Englishwoman during a recent engagement in London, carried on through the agency of a dictionary. Purely through accident the young man’s finger had pointed to a certain word when it should have been directed to quite another—with the result that he received a sound box on the ear. He told the thing with such boyish delight, and with such naïve joy in the outraged prudery of the Englishwoman, that Kendall laughed as he had laughed at nothing for months. This pleased the young actor. ”

“ The pale, green globe of Centaur hung in a black sky; greatened and darkened and Kendall was looking out across the huge rocket port from which the Centaurians planned to launch Terra's destruction.
Now, for the first time, he saw the Centaurian without the mask. The man was handsome. He had the cruel black eyes of all Centaurians. He smiled coldly. "We've come a long way, Kendall. I suppose you want to see your wife." ”

“ Mr. Thomas Kendall had a younger brother, Colonel James Kendall, who was Governor of Barbadoes in ——, one of the lords of the Admiralty under Queen Anne, and a member of Parliament in several Parliaments: he died suddenly, unmarried, July the 10th, 1708, at his house in London, very rich, and left a natural son by Mrs. Colliton, who now goes by the name of Kendall.
Under Killygarth is Porth-Para, vulgo Polpera, id est, the sandy port. “A little to the eastwards,” saith Carew, (fol. 131 b.) ”

“ Then the chapel bell stopped ringing and the fellows made a rush for the entrance.
Kendall smiled to himself as he followed. He could tell them something that would surprise them if he wanted to. Of course he would have to tell someone or else he would get no credit for his act; and it is only human nature to want credit for our good deeds. ”

“ Shell after shell dropped precisely, neatly, not varying in their placing by more than a couple of score of feet.... About the corner was no sign of life, no hurrying figures stumbling headlong away from the peril, and Kendall wondered if life were present there, if life had been there, or if it had wholly ceased to exist.
They walked on down the road to their car and returned to Montreuil, where Kendall had business with the Assistant Provost Marshal, who occupied a house on the edge of town, midway down the winding hill. ”

“ Andree addressed herself to her plate with that quaint absorption which always delighted Kendall. It touched Maude now, as everything about this appealing little girl touched her. She found herself actually growing fond of Andree as one might grow fond of a lovable child.... And yet she had a certainty that she would not find Andree altogether childlike; that in all matters appertaining to her love she would be all woman and amply potent to defend herself and her rights. ”

“ There is nothing in life for me. If I am kill—pouf!... So.... There is an end, and it will be well....”
Kendall felt Maude’s fingers on his arm, felt their sudden pressure. “There,” she whispered. “There it is.... She knows. They all know.... Who has a right to say they sha’n’t have their little moments?...”
Kendall stood up. It seemed as if movement were necessary, any sort of movement, of physical action. ”

“ Kendall suspected that American women were suffering for the sins of Maude Knox, so he did not rush to their defense. He did not want to think about Maude Knox to-night—he wanted to think of no woman but Andree.
“Méchante!” he whispered.
“It is so—what I say,” she said, severely. “I do not like American women.... I do not like thees girl. She ees ver’ wicked, for she wish to steal you from me.”
The street was very dark. Kendall made youth’s answer to youth’s jealousy. ”