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The members of the party, together with their disposition in the boats at starting, were as follows: John Wesley Powell, John C. Sumner, William H. Dunn the Emma Dean; Walter H. Powell, G. Y. Bradley Kitty Clyde's Sister; O. G. Howland, Seneca Howland, Frank Goodman the No-Name; William R. Hawkins, Andrew Hall Maid of the Canyon. Powell, as noted, had been a volunteer officer in the Civil War.
She laughed like she had a bully joke on the poor things. She was glad, too, for Clyde's sake that a suitable opening was just about to occur any moment, because the poor chap said himself it was a dog's life he was leading, with nothing much to do every day but go to the club and set round.
You make me feel all dressed up, but it's too much trouble to change." "I looked at it the other way it was too much trouble to dress up," Clyde replied. "I don't suppose one needs to, out here. I'm going to be comfy, anyway." Kitty Wade forebore comment, but she smiled wisely to herself. Inwardly she reflected that simplicity of dress was Clyde's long suit.
Wajid Ali's twenty-foot wall has now given place to an earthen embankment surrounding a beautiful pleasure park, and there are now smooth green slopes instead of the dense forest through which Clyde's soldiers marched on their turning movement.
He dropped into a seat with dull eyes and slackening lips, and his daughter drew the curtain across the picture. Wyant turned away reluctantly. He felt that his opportunity was slipping from him, yet he dared not refer to Clyde's wish for a photograph. He now understood the meaning of the laugh with which Doctor Lombard had given him leave to carry away all the details he could remember.
"I am glad to see you," he said to Wyant, extending a hand which seemed a mere framework held together by knotted veins. "We lead a quiet life here and receive few visitors, but any friend of Professor Clyde's is welcome." Then, with a gesture which included the two women, he added dryly: "My wife and daughter often talk of Professor Clyde."
Suppose we adjourn." "I'll go you once," said Wade. "Where do I come in?" Clyde asked. "I'm thirsty, too." "Feng shall produce Chakchak fizzes for both of us." They trooped into the house, thirsty, hungry, and laughing, and Kitty Wade exclaimed at Clyde's dress. "Thank Heaven I didn't go!" she cried. "Mr. Dunne, you should get a commission from her dressmaker." "Oh, this will wash.
Kitty's patronizing air nettled Blue Bonnet as much as it amused her. "Why shouldn't he be nice?" she inquired a bit sharply. "Miss Rankin's nice herself." The remark went over Kitty's head, and the appearance of Sarah Blake down the roadway put a stop to the gossip. It was the gayest kind of a little party that made the rafters in Mrs. Clyde's dining-room ring with laughter an hour later.
There was Mr Mawley visiting at Mrs Clyde's house some half-a-dozen times a week, for all I knew to the contrary and of course I imagined the worst and having endless chances and opportunities of conversing with my darling, in the morning, at noontide, and at night; while poor, wretched I had to content myself with a passing bow and smile when we chanced to meet abroad, or I should happen to see her dainty figure at the window as I promenaded past her house.
The carriage was to be at hers and Jessie's command, Paul never refusing a reasonable request to drive the young ladies when and where they wished to go, while a pretty little black pony, recently broken to the saddle for Agnes, was to be at Miss Clyde's service, if she chose to have it.
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