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"I think they saw us," whispered Dagmar, "I heard one girl say some one was hiding by the signboard." "We should worry," flippantly replied Tessie. "I guess they are too busy thinking about their old wigwagging to notice mill girls." "Oh, you're mean, Tessie. I think they are real nice. They always say hello to me."
No! I am being honest." So they went off together, as friendly as you please, to France. Waram was still thinking of Dagmar; Grimshaw was thinking only of himself. He swaggered up and down the Paris boulevards showing his tombstone teeth and staring at the women. "The Europeans admire me," he said to Waram. "May England go to the devil." He groaned. "I despise respectability, my dear Waram.
Harry Anguish was in the center and the Countess Dagmar was directly in front of him, looking up with sparkling eyes and parted lips. The Count and Countess Halfont, Gaspon, the Baron Dangloss, the Duke of Mizrox, with other ladies and gentlemen, were being entertained by the gay-spirited stranger. Here he comes," cried the latter, as he caught sight of the approaching couple.
With wistful eyes, fainting hearts and voiceless lips five of them watched the day approach, knowing that she would not speak and that Graustark was doomed. Loyal conspirators against that which they loved better than their lives their country were Dangloss, Quinnox, Allode, Ogbot and Dagmar.
It struck him as preposterous that the entire population of Edelweiss could be in the game to deceive him. "Who is the princess's companion?" he inquired of Haddan, as they left the castle grounds. "The Countess Dagmar, cousin to her highness. She is the wife of Mr. Anguish." "I have seen her before," said Baldos, a strange smile on his face.
Also a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and the weakest link in this adventurer's chain was the fact that she had no means of communicating with her own folks or Dagmar, and receiving any reply from them. She knew her own father too well to risk letting him know anything of her whereabouts, and her two letters to Dagmar could not be answered for lack of address.
"So you have really done it!" the letter abruptly commenced; "Poor Dagmar. Now she is done for I almost pity her. You did it very well, you wicked boy, the servants all think it was suicide, and there will be no fuss. Better not touch the jewels till after the inquest. "Clotilde." Anything that Mrs.
Not too nice in spots. But start right in. Drink your tea and eat up your bread and jelly. I'll finish what I was at, and be back by the time you have cleaned your plate." Dagmar realized this action was taken out of sheer delicacy. And she was very thankful to be left alone with her food.
Once clear of the long brown building, through which spots of light now struck the night, out of those desperate rows and rows of machine-made windows, Dagmar made her way straight to the corner, then turned straight again to another long narrow street, her very steps corresponding to that painful directness of line and plan, common to towns made by mill-owners for their employees.
Not only had she lost her place, but she had likewise lost her companions, and while unwilling to admit it the girl felt keenly the separation from Dagmar. "All the same," she declared, taking a last look at the girls in their brown uniforms on the green square, "I'll be one of them some day. They don't have to be too particular about girls they are supposed to help.
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