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Miss Bewery does not feel any inclination to you now, nor at any time to be! She's told you so three times. And you should take her answer and behave yourself accordingly!" Bryce favoured his senior with a searching look. "How does Miss Bewery know that she mayn't be inclined to in the future?" he asked. "She may come to regard me with favour." "No, she won't!" declared Ransford.
And I'll fill in the hole left by the stump and plant some manzanita there to hide the " He paused. Peeping out from under a chip among the litter at his feet was the moldy corner of a white envelope. In an instant Bryce had it in his hand.
Bryce, who was slowly pouring some liquid from one bottle into another, looked quietly across the room and did not interrupt himself in his work. Ransford knew that he must have recognized a certain significance in the words just addressed to him but he showed no outward sign of it, and the liquid went on trickling from one bottle to the other with the same uniform steadiness.
Moira's story her confession of love, so tragic because so hopeless had stirred Shirley deeply. She seated herself in front of Moira and cupped her chin in her palm. "Of course, dear," she said, "you couldn't possibly see anybody you loved suffer so and not feel dreadfully about it. And when a man like Bryce Cardigan is struck down, he's apt to present rather a tragic and helpless figure.
With a smart bump it struck the caboose and shunted it briskly up the siding; at the sound of the impact Bryce raised his troubled glance just in time to see Shirley's body, yielding to the shock, sway into full view at the window. With difficulty he suppressed a grin. "I'll bet my immortal soul she was peeking at me," he soliloquized. "Confound the luck!
"In the meantime, send a man you can trust Jim Harding, who runs the big bull-donkey, will do down to the locomotive to keep steam up until I arrive." He had scarcely hung up, when Buck Ogilvy came into the office. "Well?" he queried casually. "Safe-o, Buck!" replied Bryce. "How about your end of the contract?"
Once in the Solomons, when a wild boar charged me, I lay for weeks in a trader's hut waiting for an obdurate fracture to knit up again. Some idea of the furious pace at which Bryce pushed the car along can be guessed from the fact that we did the fourteen miles in something over twenty minutes.
But time pressed and I passed on to the central Hall where I stood in a jostling crowd, absorbed in the present with little thought of the fine frescoes that lined the walls or of the history that had been made in that environment. I was to send in my card to Mr. Bryce and while I stood puzzled as to what course to take, a good friend came to my side in the person of Sir Henry Norman.
Next came visits to various country houses, all delightful, and then a stay at Oxford, to which I was reinitiated by James Bryce; and for two weeks it was a round of interesting visits, breakfasts, luncheons, and dinners with the men best worth knowing at the various colleges.
He was fumbling in his card-case and did not look up until about to hand his card to Moira when his mouth flew half open, the while he stared at her with consummate frankness. The girl's glance met his momentarily, then was lowered modestly; she took the card and carried it to Bryce. "Hum-m-m!" Bryce grunted. "That noisy fellow Ogilvy, eh?" "His clothes are simply wonderful and so is his voice.
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