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I mean outside of you and my mother?" he asked in a low voice, but subdued eagerness was audible in it. "Have you any? Why, man, a friend is a friend for life and beyond. Who was it put it thus: 'Said one: I would go up to the gates of hell with a friend. Said the other: I would go in. That last is the kind you have here in Flamsted, Champney."
Yollop start to tyin' you up with that muffler of his hangin' over there in the closet by the time I've said three, I'm goin' to shoot him. I hate to do it, 'cause he's a fine feller and don't deserve to be shot on account of any darn' fool woman." "I suppose you know the law provides a very unpleasant penalty for murder," said Mrs. Champney, but her voice quavered disloyally.
He, too, felt relieved, and spoke more freely: "I said I want you to make good that eighty thousand dollars " "Don't be a fool, Octavius Buzzby," she broke in upon him coldly, a world of scornful pity in her voice, "you mean well, but you're a fool to think that at my time of life I'm going to impoverish myself and my estate for Champney Googe. You've had your pains for nothing.
"Suppose we say, I LET HIM COME. He'd be hanging round, for he has property here, and wanted to get me to take it up with mine in the company. I knew what his new views and ideas were, and I thought I'd better consult Champney who, being a foreigner, and an older resident than yo', was quite neutral.
Champney seated alone and helpless in the midst of the confusion, Smilk marched Mr. Yollop to his bedroom and then up the hall to the scene of the first encounter. "It seems sort of a pity not to get away with all this stuff," said the burglar, rattling the objects in his pocket. "It ain't professional. I'm beginnin' to change my mind about bein' arrested, Mr.
But he did not intend to be "downed," as he said to himself, "not this time by Almeda Champney." He continued undaunted: "I do know what he meant better'n anybody living, and I know what he was going to do for the boy; and I know, too, Mrs.
You might say I expect to be away for a few days and it is necessary that I should see her now." "You don't mean to say you're going to leave us right in the lurch, 'fore we know anything about Champney! Why, what will the Colonel do without you? You've been his right hand man. He's all broken up; that one night's work nearly killed him, and he hasn't seemed himself since "
Champney started to his feet, his hand clenched on the table edge. He breathed short, hard. "O God, O God! Why didn't you let me go? How can I face her and live!" He began to pace the room with rapid jerky steps. Father Honoré rose.
Van Ostend's plan over and over in his mind, viewing it from all sides. It was not what he wanted, but it might lead to that. His eyes were on the rough ground beneath him, his thoughts busy with the pending decision, when he was taken out of himself by hearing an unexpected voice in his vicinity. "Good morning, Mr. Googe. Am I poaching on your preserve?" Champney recognized the voice at once.
"Don't begin by spoiling her," she said. Then she bade her make ready the little round tea-table on the terrace and serve tea. "What do you think of her?" she asked him after Aileen had entered the house. She spoke with a directness of speech that warned Champney the question was a cloak to some other thought on her part. "That she does you credit, Aunt Meda.
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