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Bailey was horrid to me, and I tried to find out from Scott whether he knew, but he wasn't much interested. So, Duane, who else is there for me to ask except you? And I don't exactly know whether I may speak about such matters to you, but I'm rather frightened, and densely ignorant.
Duane, carrying his glass with him, rose and stepped across the strip of grass to her side, and, glancing askance at her, was on the point of speaking when he discovered that her eyes were shut and her face colourless and rigid. "What is it?" he asked surprised. "Are you feeling faint, Geraldine?" She opened her eyes, velvet dark and troubled, but did not turn around.
Stainer of Elting & Stainer, that dreadful creature Klawber, a very horrid man named Amos Flack and dear, grim, pig-headed Mr. Tappan old Remsen Tappan of all men! "He practically kicked out Mr. Flack and the creature Klawber, who had been trying to frighten Scott and me and even our lawyers. "And think, Duane!
"How's Sis?" he inquired. "I think she has a headache," replied Kathleen, looking at Duane. "Could I see her?" he asked. Kathleen said gently that Geraldine did not feel like seeing anybody at that time.
They were jolly, wild fellows, with just enough gravity in their welcome to show Duane their respect and appreciation, while not forgetting his lone-wolf record. When he had seated himself in that circle, now one of them, a feeling subtle and uplifting pervaded him. After the meal Captain MacNelly drew Duane aside. "Here's the money. Make it go as far as you can.
"Nothing for you, Sis, except bills; one letter for Duane, two for Kathleen, and the rest for me" he examined the envelopes "all from brother correspondents and eager aspirants for entomological honours.... Here's your letter, Duane!" scaling it across the table in spite of Kathleen's protest. They had the grace to ask each other's permission to read.
Days passed by without a brawl, and Bland's valley saw more successive hours of peace than ever before. Duane, however, found the hours anything but empty. He spent more time at Mrs. Bland's; he walked miles on all the trails leading out of the valley; he had a care for the condition of his two horses.
In Duane's state of mind clear reasoning, common sense, or keenness were out of the question. He went because he felt he was compelled. Dusk had fallen when he rode into a town which inquiry discovered to be Fairfield. Captain MacNelly's camp was stationed just out of the village limits on the other side. No one except the boy Duane questioned appeared to notice his arrival.
Duane, reeling in his saddle, bent searching eyes upon the rancher. He thought he saw good will, kindness, honesty. He risked all on that one sharp glance. Then he almost plunged from the saddle. The rancher caught him, helped him to a bench. "Martha, come out here!" he called. "This man's sick. No; he's shot, or I don't know blood-stains." Jennie had slipped off her horse and to Duane's side.
"But I haven't begun to tell you " he began; and she interrupted smilingly: "I know enough about you for a while; I have learned that you are a very wonderful young man and that I'm inclined to like you. You will come to see me, won't you?... No, I can't remain here another second. I want to go to Kathleen. I want you to ask her to dance, too.... Please don't urge me, Duane.
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