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Crowther sounded puzzled, and Piers broke into a laugh and descended to earth. "Yes, in one expressive word 'Rats! No one else will understand it, but she will." "A little abrupt!" commented Crowther. "Yes, I'm going to be abrupt now," said Piers with imperial confidence. "I'm going to storm the position." "And you are sure you will carry it?" "Quite sure."
No other," continued Mr. Flint with a sudden burst, "than Crowther & Jenkins!" "The devil! and the niece then is" "Catherine Arnold Tom Linden's wife supposed to have been drowned in the Erin! That's check-mate, I rather fancy not only to Mr. Edwin Majoribanks, but some one else we know of. The old fellow up stairs won't refuse to acknowledge his daughter-in-law now, I fancy!"
He looked momentarily startled; then laughed across the table with a freedom that was wholly unaffected. "Am I engaged, did you say? No, I'm not. But I'm going to be married for all that." "Ah!" said Crowther. "I thought I knew the signs." He rose with the words, and instantly Piers sprang up also. "Yes, let's go! I can't breathe here.
His voice sank upon the words. "And you are going to wait for that?" said Crowther. Piers nodded. He dropped the poker with a careless clatter and stretched his arms high above his head. "You once said something to me about the Hand of the Sculptor," he said. "Well, if He wants to do any shaping so far as I am concerned, now is His time. I am willing to be shaped."
She went up the step and into the car as if drawn by an irresistible magnetism, seeing neither Crowther nor Victor, aware only of a prone, gaunt figure on a stretcher, white-haired, skeleton-featured, that reached a trembling hand to her and said again, "Hullo!"
At last Crowther gave me a few jobs to do for him in my off-time. They weren't very nice jobs, and I shouldn't like to explain them to you; but they brought me in half a sovereign now and then. I began to get an insight into the baser modes of filling one's pocket. Then something happened; my mother died, and I became the owner of a house at Notting Hill of fifty pounds rental.
This time it was a three-legged lynx, which sullenly squatted on its haunches and allowed itself to be dragged through the dust by a rope tied into its collar. "You needn't be the least mite afeard of that bobcat," protested Mr. Crowther, cheerily; "he's a perfick pet, and wouldn't hurt the infant in its cradle." The cat rolled back its lips and snarled. Mr.
She had had a letter only that morning from Crowther, the friend of those far-off Australian days, and he expressed a hope of being able to pay her a flying visit at Stanbury Cliffs before settling down to work in grim earnest for the accomplishment of his life's desire. She would have welcomed Edmund Crowther at any time.
"That is just where you make a mistake, my good Crowther. You're an awfully shrewd chap in some ways, but you understand women just about as thoroughly as I understand theology." Piers clasped his hands behind his head, and regarded his friend affectionately. "Do you think so?" said Crowther a little drily. Piers laughed. "Now I've trodden on your pet corn. Bear up, old chap!
He looked up with a sharp, startled movement, and through a floating mist he saw his grandmother's baffling smile from the canvas on the wall. The blood was singing in his ears. He clenched his hands involuntarily. Crowther! He had forgotten Crowther! And Crowther knew how much? But he had Crowther's promise of secrecy, so after all what had he to fear? Nothing nothing!
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