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For a moment her mind was only a confused void, then the routine instinct of self-control asserted itself; she made the effort required of her, groping for composure and self-command. "He is better, you say?" "Lansdale said there was a change which might be slightly favourable.... I wish I could say more than that, Shiela." "But he is better, then?" pitifully persistent.
It was clear that he had done a thing which he earnestly wanted and had earnestly dreaded to do and that the dread was past. "I'm pretty happy, Cal that's all. Of course you'll soon know how it is yourself." He referred here to the well-known fact that I was much in the company of Miss Lansdale. But this was a thing to be turned.
Lansdale was too small even to be called a "whistle stop," because no trains came near it. An interstate bus route passed through on the main highway, and that was the sole link with the towns to north and south, except for private cars. Rick drove right up the main street. He saw a drugstore, an independent food market, a hardware-and-farm-supply store, a variety store, and two gas stations.
"Fine," replied his chum. "To-morrow's Saturday, so we can go all right. But don't forget that we want to be back when the prize winners are announced," he said, struck by a sudden thought. "Oh, it won't take us very long to get on the ground," said Brandon. "I figure this man we're after is somewhere in Lansdale, and you know that isn't more than a two hours' run by automobile.
He'll hunt them up for me at the depot; won't he, Aunt Wealthy?" "Yes, I told him to." The shrill whistle of the locomotive echoed and re-echoed among the hills. "Lansdale!" shouted the conductor, throwing open the car door. "So we are at our destination at last, and I am very glad for your sake, daughter, for you are looking weary," said Mr.
He resumed his speech only after an appreciable pause, as if the omelette had reminded him of something. "The hour is untimely, but I'm told that you're a friend of a Mrs. Lansdale, who has some pieces of Colonial furniture she wishes to let go. I wondered, you know, if you'd be good enough to introduce me.
Lansdale is doing everything that can be done; Miss Race and Miss Clay are competent. You're simply frightening yourself sick "
"I'm afraid I'm afraid that my boy is not making the fight he could make," she whispered. "Why not?" She was speechless. "Why not!" ... And in a lower voice: "This corridor is a confessional. Miss Palliser if that helps you any." She said: "They were in love." "Oh! Are they yet?" "Yes." "Oh! She married the other man?" "Yes." "Oh!" Young Lansdale wheeled abruptly and entered the sick-room.
Not even did she lighten when I said to her mother, in open mockery of that reserve, "Well, she cost you a lot of furniture that was really most companionable about the house," and paused with a sigh betokening a regretful comparison of values. That lance shattered against her Lansdale shield like all the others.
I pretended always to have been a perfect devil of a fellow among the dogs, and professed loftily not to have divined the secret of my innumerable and unvarying conquests. "Dogs are so foolishly faithful," remarked Miss Lansdale, with polite acerbity. "I know it," I conceded; "that fellow thinks I am the most beautiful person in all the world."
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