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"Wasn't it a shame your mother couldn't come, Betty?" Polly said. "But, of course, Dick is here," she teased. "No, he's not," Lois laughed. "I'd have seen his red head in the crowd if he had been." "He's coming with John Frisby and Ange's sister and brother-in-law," Betty said, without paying any attention to Lois' teasing. "There'll be at least twenty couples for the dance," Polly said.
M. St.-Ange's replies were in falsetto and not without effect; for presently the parson's indignation and anger began to melt. "Don't ask me, Jools, I can't help you. It's no use; it's a matter of conscience with me, Jools." "Mais oui! 'tis a matt' of conscien' wid me, the same." "But, Jools, the money's none o' mine, nohow; it belongs to Smyrny, you know."
"Some one, even St. Angé's folks, should have seen how fine it is to keep the children away from the tavern. How we have let everything drift! Why Jock, if the boys and girls learn to hate the Black Cat; if they are given something good, why of course St. Angé is going to be another kind of place. Does Miss Drew help in teaching?" "Does she?"
Indeed he purposely avoided any information regarding what was going on at the shack among the pines. He was determined that St. Angé's first, true Christmas should be, as far as he could make it, a perfect one; and it was one never to be forgotten. It set a high standard; one from which the place was never again to fall far below.
M. St.-Ange's replies were in falsetto and not without effect; for presently the parson's indignation and anger began to melt. "Don't ask me, Jools, I can't help you. It's no use; it's a matter of conscience with me, Jools." "Mais oui! 'tis a matt' of conscien' wid me, the same." "But, Jools, the money's none o' mine, nohow; it belongs to Smyrny, you know."
"Jude," he continued after a moment, "they sometimes go to the devil, you know. Even St. Angé's ideals do not prevent that, judging from things I've heard." "Not her kind," Jude muttered. He was harking back to Lola Laval. How the girl rose and haunted him to-night! "Not her kind, Mr. Gaston." "No, you're right, Jude not her kind as she is now. That's just the point.
For the same price you paid for Friar Ange's lessons, I'll give him my own; I'll teach him Latin and Greek, and French also, that language which Voiture and Balzac have brought to perfection. And in such way, by a luck doubly singular and favourable, this Jacquot Tournebroche will become learned and I shall eat every day," "Agreed!" said my father. "Barbara, bring two goblets.
Billy was hoisted on his own petard. Hatred fled before the sympathy he felt flowing from Jock to him. He wanted to cry; wanted to fling himself upon his companion and "own up," but Jock anticipated all his emotions. "See here, kid," he said in a voice new to St. Angé's knowledge of Jock; "you're not the fellow to grudge a poor devil an hour or so of heaven.
It transformed a girlish face that was looking far, far beyond St. Angé's calm and peace. The vision the girl saw was battle. Life's battle. Not little Billy's alone, though God knew that was to be no light matter. Not even Filmer's lonely struggle, but her own. Her fight against Convention and Preconceived Ideas. Against all that Always Had Been with What Was Now To Be.
Her directness, and the slight she paid to his personal reflections, ruffled Jared's complacency. He was not ready to confess more than was absolutely necessary. "Just one of them misunderstandings," he replied, slipping into St. Angé's carelessness of speech, "that happens now and again to any young man with a fine taste and slim purse. A matter of business!
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