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There was no great pulse of haste yet in this process of saving Chad; nor was that effect a bit more marked as he sat, half an hour later, with his legs under Chad's mahogany, with Mr. Bilham on one side, with a friend of Mr.

His relation with Chad personally from the moment he had got his point of view had been of the simplest; yet this also struck him as bristling, after a third and a fourth blank day had passed. It was as if at last however his care for such indications had dropped; there came a fifth blank day and he ceased to enquire or to heed.

It was well to make a goodly display of strength and wealth on an occasion like the present. Doubtless the Lord of Mortimer would be there with all his train, and Chad must not cut a much poorer figure in the eyes of the beholders.

Well, she succeeded after a little in shaking it off. "I see. It's what you don't suggest what you haven't suggested. And you know." "So would you, my dear," he kindly said, "if you had so much as seen her." "As seen Mrs. Newsome?" "No, Sarah which, both for Chad and for myself, has served all the purpose." "And served it in a manner," she responsively mused, "so extraordinary!"

What was in the girl was indeed too soft, too unknown for direct dealing; so that one could only gaze at it as at a picture, quite staying one's own hand. But with Chad he was now on ground Chad he could meet; so pleasant a confidence in that and in everything did the young man freely exhale.

Reports, however, had been going about that the English had come to spy out the land, and intended to build ships on Lake Chad, in which they would sail about and conquer the surrounding country.

Was there in Chad, by chance, after all, deep down, a principle of aboriginal loyalty that had made him, for sentimental ends, attach himself to elements, happily encountered, that would remind him most of the old air and the old soil? Why accordingly be in a flutter Strether could even put it that way about this unfamiliar phenomenon of the femme du monde? On these terms Mrs.

Clarence Sidwell Chad, his friends called him leaned farther back in the big wicker chair, with an involuntary motion adjusted his well-creased trousers so there might be no tension at the knees, and looked across the tiny separating table at his vis-a-vis, while his eyelids whimsically tightened. "Well," he queried, "what do you think of it?"

He had seen Chad Newsome late the night before, and he had had that morning, as a sequel to this conversation, a second interview with Sarah. "But they're all off," he said, "at last." It puzzled her a moment. "All? Mr. Newsome with them?" "Ah not yet! Sarah and Jim and Mamie. But Waymarsh with them for Sarah.

Frightened and helpless, she shrank toward the turnstile, but Chad did not wait. With his cap in his hand, he turned abruptly, without a sound, and strode away. And yet, the next time Chad saw Margaret, she spoke to him shyly but cordially, and when he did not come near her, she stopped him on the street one day and reminded him of his promise to come and see them.