United States or Montserrat ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Courtney's presence, she had not taken the time to remove her hat or jacket. "Let's all sit down," said he. "My knees are unaccountably weak. Come along, Ede. Listen to the romance of my life." And when the story was finished, the Countess took his hand in hers and held it to her cool cheek. The tears were still drowning her eyes. "Oh, you poor dear!
Courtney's father was born there, but went east to live during the first Cleveland administration. He had some kind of a political appointment in Washington, and married a Congressman's daughter from Georgia, I think anyhow, it was one of the Southern states. He is really quite fascinating, Mary. You would lose your heart to him, I am sure."
He showed them where the masked man vaulted over the porch rail, and the course he took in crossing the terrace, below which Courtney's coat was found where he had cast it aside at the beginning of the chase. The first shot was fired as the man climbed over the fence separating the old-fashioned garden from the wooded district to the west, the second following almost immediately.
Courtney's saunterings had taken him past this charming place before, half a dozen times perhaps, but never had it seemed so alluring. Outwardly there was no change that he could detect, and yet there was a subtle difference in its every aspect. The spray, the shadows, the lazy windmill, the flowers, he had seen them all before, just as they were this morning. They had not changed.
"Have you told Miss Crown that I am here?" asked he, as she started toward the stairs. "She says she'll be down in a few minutes. Mrs. Vick wants to see you before you go." The two reporters were examining the contents of the scrap-book. The younger of the two was standing at the end of the little marble-topped table, his body screening the book from Courtney's view.
"Rather clever that," laughed Eugene, swinging his monocle with one hand and stroking his drooping yellow mustache with the other. "Really I never thought of bother in that way before. Keeps one bothered, I think you said," and he gazed out over the broad lawn where the young people were noisily congregating, in pleasant contemplation of Courtney's wonderful new philosophy.
"I've got an item in the Sun about him this week, and next week we'll have an interview with him." The usually loquacious Mr. Webster had been silent since Courtney's arrival. Now he lifted his voice to put a question to Miss Angie Miller, across the table. "Did you write that letter I spoke about the other day, Angie?" "Yes, but there hasn't been time for an answer yet."
Well, at our friend Courtney's house-party, Gresham was all for Birchard to handle this business; fairly forced him on us, don't you know; but on Tuesday he came to us much pained, I assure you, and in the greatest confidence told us he was sure the beggar was not the man for the place. Been mixed up in a rotten money scandal or so, don't you know."
He often sighed to think that there was no chance for him to benefit by a share of the large property owned by his cousins. Without hope of personal advantage, however, he had always been obsequious to them, and often took occasion to mention them, by way of enhancing his own social credit somewhat. Mr. Tarbox had heard of Mrs. Courtney's death, but had not heard the particulars of the will.
Tears came into Courtney's eyes as he drained the last drop of the fiery liquid. A shudder distorted his face. "Pretty hot stuff, eh?" observed Charlie sympathetically. Courtney's reply was a nod of the head, speech being denied him. "Don't try to talk yet," said Charlie, as if admonishing a child who has choked on a swallow of water.
Word Of The Day