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They're crowding us, boy. Hell, what a junk heap this post is going to be, to sort out..." "Get to it," Nelsen commented. "You've got something in mind?" "Uh-huh. Coming in, I heard somebody address somebody else as Fan. Fanshaw, that would be. And I kind of remembered his voice, as he cracked out orders. He was with this group. I'm going after him."
Mrs. Fanshaw looked towards the table, with a sarcastic smile, and said "You are great readers, young ladies, I see: may we know what are your studies?" Miss Fanshaw, to show how well she could walk, crossed the room, and took up one of the books. "'Alison upon Taste' that's a pretty book, I dare say but la! what's this, Miss Isabella?
He heard Fanshaw add that his country was full of such quaint fables and idioms; it was the very home of romance; he even pitted this part of Cornwall against Devonshire, as a claimant to the laurels of Elizabethan seamanship. According to him there had been captains among these coves and islets compared with whom Drake was practically a landsman.
At the end of the last act she again made them linger so that they were the last to emerge into the passage. In the outside doorway, she saw the woman just a glimpse of a pretty, empty, laughing face with a mouth made to utter impertinences and eyes that invited them. Mrs. Fanshaw was speaking "You're very tired, aren't you?" "Very," replied Pauline, with a struggle to smile.
"And I've never enjoyed myself in my whole life as I'm enjoying it here." So she went East alone, went direct to Dawn Hill, their country place at Manhasset, Long Island, which Dumont never visited. She invited Leonora Fanshaw down to stand between her thoughts and herself.
Fanshaw, also of New York, came from the library in a tea-gown of chiffon and real lace. All were made acquainted and Pauline poured the tea. As Olivia felt shy and was hungry, she ate the little sandwiches and looked and listened and thought looked and thought rather than listened. These were certainly well-bred people, yet she did not like them.
Of these twenty some must have been captured by the enemy, for when Sir Richard Fanshaw was appointed ambassador to Spain in January 1664, he was instructed among other things to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners taken in the Indies.
In a joint he watched a girl with almost no clothes, do an incredible number of spinning somersaults in mid-air. He thought he ought to find himself a friend then decided perversely, to hell with it. He thought of the trouble on Earth, of Ceres, of Tiflin and Igor, of Fanshaw, the latest leader of the Asteroid Belt toughs the Jolly Lads that you heard about.
He heard the most important things and the most trivial with the same tasteless absorption. He heard that the coast was death to all but careful seamen; he also heard that the ship's cat was asleep. He heard that Fanshaw couldn't find his cigar-holder anywhere; he also heard the pilot deliver the oracle "Both eyes bright, she's all right; one eye winks, down she sinks."
On the inquest it was shown that Buck Fanshaw, in the delirium of a wasting typhoid fever, had taken arsenic, shot himself through the body, cut his throat, and jumped out of a four-story window and broken his neck and after due deliberation, the jury, sad and tearful, but with intelligence unblinded by its sorrow, brought in a verdict of death "by the visitation of God."
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