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The squire looked at him, first with amazement, then with anger, and asked, "When did ta lose thy good sense, and thy good-will, son Antony?" "I had a talk with Swale to-day, and in his judgment " "Thou knows what I think o' Swale. Was there ever a bigger old cheat than he is? I'll put my heart afore Swale's judgment, Ben Craven's all right."
Thus, her undefined suspicions of Craven's sincerity were overborne by a sort of noble benevolence which determined her to think the best of him which circumstances would permit. Craven, on his part, having had more experience, was much wiser in the pursuit of his object. He also had the advantage of being in earnest.
She completed the operation carefully and sat back on her heels flourishing the tiny brass tongs. "He's tough," she said lightly, unconsciously echoing Peters' words and apparently heedless of the interval between Miss Craven's remark and her own reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian.
She heard the talk that followed the polite rustle of applause at the first intermission, without being irritated by it, without even listening to what it meant, though here and there a phrase registered itself upon her ear. Henry Craven's "Very modern, of course. No tonality at all, not a cadence in it," and Charlotte Avery's "No form either. And hardly to be called a song.
Only a little comfort out of the very heart of that great pursuing shadow came to him Margaret Craven's grave and tender eyes. Carfax was buried. There had been an inquest; certain tramps and wanderers had been arrested, examined and dismissed. No discovery had been made, and a verdict of Wilful "Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown" had been returned.
The German -a powerful and firmly-built man was on him at once, but Cecil's science was the finer. For a second the two rocked in close embrace, and then the German fell heavily. The cries of Baroni drew a crowd at once, but Cecil dashed, with the swiftness of the deer, forward into the gathering night. Flight! The craven's refuge the criminal's resource! Flight!
"Now, the coward's curse be upon thee for an idiot!" said the knight, who had picked up the glove, and was looking at it "thou shouldst be sent back to school, and flogged till the craven's blood was switched out of thee What dost thou look at but a glove, thou base poltroon, and a very dirty glove, too? Stay, here is writing Joseph Tomkins?
From her Miss Van Tuyn had heard of Craven's walk in the garden with Adela Sellingworth and early departure to London in Adela's motor. In addition to this piece of casually imparted news, Mrs. Ackroyde had frankly told Miss Van Tuyn that she was being gossiped about in a disagreeable way and that, in spite of her established reputation for unconventionality, she ought to be more careful.
She framed the words half aloud in a moan as she glanced at her mother heaving in stern triumph, her sister drooping, Madame Emerly standing at the window. The craven's first instinct for safety, quick as the cavern lynx for light, set her on the idea that she was abandoned: it whispered of quietness if she submitted.
She intended to know if Martha did. Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge. "Mind," she said, "Mrs. Medlock said it's not to be talked about. There's lots o' things in this place that's not to be talked over. That's Mr. Craven's orders. His troubles are none servants' business, he says. But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is. It was Mrs.
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