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And now for my incident: In the doorway, one day shortly after the arrival of the gentlemen mentioned, quietly stood a well-dressed handsomely middle-aged man, with a sensitive face culminating in a groomed Van Dyck beard. I thought for a moment that the Mayor of Orne, or whatever his title is, had dropped in for an informal inspection of The Enormous Room.
You can cash in on straight capital, but there ain't a cent in the dollar for you when you try to collect in what you 'ain't ever invested. A man don't have to be so blamed popular after he is well settled in politics; but you've got to have some real human-nature assets to get a start with. You've got to depend on given votes not the boughten ones." "Orne, you're rasping me mighty hard."
Bullone was tall, had a face of harsh angles and deep lines, dark eyes under heavy brows, black hair trained in receding waves. There was a look of ungainly clumsiness about him. He doesn't strike me as the dictator type, thought Orne. But that's obviously what Stet suspects. "Glad you made it out all right, son," boomed Bullone. He advanced into the room, glanced around.
"Five hundred years' cross-breeding with other races saw to that. There's merely a secret society of astute political scientists." He smiled wryly at Polly, glanced back at Spencer. "Think of your own wife, sir. In all honesty, would you be ComGO today if she hadn't guided your career?" Spencer's face darkened. He drew in his chin, tried to stare Orne down, failed. Presently, he chuckled wryly.
Orne did not remove the earlapper cap which the nippy February day demanded; nor did he shuck off the buffalo coat whose baldness in the rear below the waistline suggested the sedentary habits of Mr. Orne. He selected a doughnut from the plate at Britt's elbow and munched placidly.
Fields and Sarah Orne Jewett a pair of friends, gentle, eager, distinguished, whom none who loved them will forget; Cambridge, and our last sight of Charles Eliot Norton, standing to bid us farewell on the steps of Shady Hill; Hawthorne's house at Concord; and the lovely shore of Newport.
Runs in her family. Her mother was the same way." Orne stared at him, fork raised from plate and motionless. A sudden idea had exploded in his mind. "You must know something of this life, Lewis," said Bullone. "Your father was member for Chargon once, wasn't he?" "Yes," murmured Orne. "But that was before I was born. He died in office." He shook his head, thought: It couldn't be ... but
She dropped to her knees beside him, soft hands fumbling at his neck, his head. "Turn him over and loosen his collar!" snapped Spencer. "Give him air!" Gently, they turned Orne onto his back. He looked pale, Diana loosed his collar, buried her face against his neck. "Oh, Lew, I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it! Please, Lew ... please don't die! Please!"
It is typical of the roads in this part of the country and beyond the large stone four or five kilometres outside Falaise, marking the boundary between Calvados and Orne, and the railway which one passes soon afterwards, there is nothing to break the undulating monotony of the boundless plain.
I trust you, but you deserve a peaceful convalescence. We've no right to saddle you with " "Stet?" Orne's voice was low, amused. "Huh?" Stetson looked up. "Let's save the noble act for someone who doesn't know you," said Orne. "You've a job for me. O.K. You've made the gesture for your conscience." Stetson produced a wolfish grin. "All right. So we're desperate, and we haven't much time.
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