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These emotional people, quick to feel and quick to forget, are hardly to be dealt with without danger. Lane's dissipations must have been graver than even rumour gave them discredit for being.
Mother has a friend staying with her and I have gone to Mrs. Lane's to board for a week, there is so much school work just now." "How very mysterious you are," studying her while she colored under the scrutiny. "Well, it threatens snow and it would be easier for me there. Don't worry about us I'll write this evening and tell you the 'whys; and now dear, don't feel vexed if I leave you.
"If he is up playing golf at La Turbie," Hunterleys muttered, "we shall barely have time." A reception clerk tapped him on the shoulder. He turned abruptly around. "I have just made an enquiry of the floor waiter," the clerk announced. "He believes that Mr. Lane is still in his room." Hunterleys thanked the man and hurried to the lift. In a few moments he was knocking at the door of Lane's rooms.
Both Lane's comrades searched his face with questioning eyes, and while Lane returned that gaze there was a little constrained silence. "Bronson examined me and said I'd live to be eighty," added Lane, with dry humor. "You're a liar!" burst out Blair. On Red Payson's worn face a faint smile appeared. "Carry on, Dare."
I wonder why I happened to overlook it up to now?" "Ah, shucks, Kid," said Mexican, "don't talk foolishness. You know you can't get within a mile of Mad Lane's house to-morrow night. I see old man Allen day before yesterday, and he says Mad is going to have Christmas doings at his house. You remember how you shot up the festivities when Mad was married, and about the threats you made?
Turner, by keeping her warm hand upon it, did much ease; but so that when we come home, which was just at eleven at night, I was not able to walk from the lane's end to my house without being helped, which did trouble me, and therefore to bed presently, but, thanks be to God, found that I had not been missed, nor any business happened in my absence.
Jan Jacobus, like several other descendants of the Dutch settlers of New Jersey, held his upland farm on shares with John Lane's tribe of gypsies.
"Well, Dick," said he, "on with your overcoat. Now that supper's done, we've a tramp ahead of us." Wherry rebelled. "Oh, Lord, Carl!" he exclaimed. "Hear the wind!" He rose and drew aside the shade. "The lane's thick with snow. Heavens, man, it's no night for a tramp. Allan's coming in with the mail and he looks like a snow man." "You promised," reminded Carl inexorably.
Soon on the Official Bulletin Board at the corner of Lane's way appeared the first, telling that all of the teams had arrived in Solomon, practically together, and had left shortly in the bitter wind that blows in fierce gusts across the icy lagoons and sleet-swept beach.
But he carried everything with him, and Lane's work seemed all undone. On a back seat of the church Tom Swift, the son of the presiding officer, sat and smiled at his father unmoved, because he had gone as far as the sixth grade in school, and thought he knew more. As the reporters say, the meeting came to a close amid great enthusiasm.
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