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John Deloraine had scarcely grasped the hand which Mr. Cranley extended with enthusiasm, when she knelt on the carpet and was consoling the Dandie. "Love in which thy hound has part," quoted Mr. Cranley. And the lady, rising with her face becomingly flushed beneath her fuzzy brown hair, smiled, and did not remark the sneer. "Thank you so much for coming, Mr.
As to Paris, he had the best reason for guessing why Maitland was bound thither, as he was the secret source of the information on which Maitland proposed to act. At luncheon which, like the dinner described by the American guest, was "luscious and abundant" Mr. Cranley was more sparkling than the champagne, and made even Maitland laugh.
"Have you any idea about what you mean to do?" "Mrs. St. John Deloraine is very kind. She wishes me to stay with her always. But I am puzzled about Mr. Cranley. I don't know what he would like me to do. He seems to have gone abroad." Barton hated to hear her mention Cranley's name. "Had you known him long?" he asked. "No; for a very short time only.
In a few moments I recovered from the sensation of almost overwhelming horror which the scene had caused; and, as I gazed more attentively, I recognised Dicky himself, with Captain Cranley, and the master, yet clinging to the rigging.
She was with her father's friend, an older man by far, and therefore a more acceptable guardian than Maitland. She was fulfilling her father's wish, and hoped soon to be put in the way of independence, and of earning her own livelihood; and independence was Margaret's ideal. Her father's friend, her own protector in that light she regarded Cranley, when she was well enough to think consecutively.
He stooped as he spoke, over the table, and Cranley saw him pick up the silver cigarette-case. It was a handsome piece of polished silver. "Certainly; help yourself. Give me back my cigarette-case, please, when you have done with it." He dealt again, and lost. "What a nice case!" said Barton, examining it closely. "There is an Arabic word engraved on it."
Mr Pullen, the master, kept glancing to windward in a significant manner. "What do you think of it, master?" asked Captain Cranley. "Why, sir, the sooner that we up-helm, and run into port, the better for the ship and ourselves," replied Mr Pullen. "There's no use straining a vessel till every timber in her creaks and groans with pain, that's my opinion."
Cranley, when he had quite persuaded the lady that Margaret would set a splendid example to her young friends. "How soon does your housekeeper leave you, and when do you need the services of the new-comers?" "Well, the plumber is rather in a hurry. He really is a good man, and I like him better for it, though it seems rather selfish of him to want to rob me of Joan.
A current of warm air, charged with tobacco-smoke, rushed forth into the frosty night when the swinging door was opened; a sleepy porter looked out of his little nest, and Cranley wrote the names of the companions he introduced in a book which was kept for that purpose. "Now you are free of the Cockpit for the night," he said, genially.
Again and again Cranley chucked out the counters he had lost, which the others gathered in, or pushed three or four bank-notes with his little rake in the direction of a more venturesome winner. The new-comers, who were winning, thought they had never taken part in a sport more gentlemanly and amusing.
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