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That Ransford was visibly upset by something was plain enough to see; his face was still pale, he was muttering to himself, one clenched fist was pounding the open palm of the other hand altogether, he looked like a man who is suddenly confronted with some fearful difficulty.
"These two young people joined him there definitely two years ago. But from what I have learnt, he has acted as their guardian ever since they were mere children." "And their mother?" asked Mr. Gilwaters. "Said to be dead long since," answered Bryce. "And their father, too. They know nothing. Ransford won't tell them anything.
At last she rose from her seat and crossed over to the window, just as the sound of voices heralded the return of Mrs. Ransford and the hired man. It was at that moment she turned to him, speaking over her shoulder. "They've got back," she said. "What are you going to do?" "Send those others on into camp." "Yes." Joan shivered.
You can get anything in this world anything! by pegging away for it." "You're not going to get my ward," suddenly said Ransford. "That's flat! She doesn't want you and she's now said so three times. And I support her." "What have you against me?" asked Bryce calmly. "If, as you say, you support her in her resolution not to listen to my proposals, you must have something against me. What is it?"
I didn't know that," remarked Mitchington. "You never mentioned it." "You'll not wonder that I didn't," said Bryce, laughing lightly, "when I tell you what the man wanted." "What did he want, then?" asked Mitchington. "Merely to be told where the Cathedral Library was," answered Bryce. Ransford, watching Mary Bewery, saw her cheeks flush, and knew that Bryce was cheerfully telling lies.
Ransford has attended her, off and on. She had some sort of a seizure this morning early and Ransford was sent for. He was there some little time and I've heard some queer things." "What sort of queer things?" demanded Bryce. "Don't be afraid of speaking out, man! there's no one to hear but myself."
"He's posing now as a friend but a man's never to be so much suspected as when he comes doing what you may call unnecessary acts of friendship. I'd rather that anybody was mixed up in my affairs your affairs than Pemberton Bryce!" "So would I!" she said. "But " She paused there a moment and then looked appealingly at Ransford. "I do wish you'd tell me what you promised to tell me," she said.
"Does Mitchington know that I overheard what he said to you, yesterday afternoon?" he inquired. "No, he doesn't," answered Bryce. "He couldn't possibly know unless I told him. I haven't told him I'm not going to tell him. But he's suspicious already." "Of me, of course," suggested Ransford, with another laugh.
He was half-inclined to add further resentment, but, second thoughts prevailing, he abruptly turned to the door and hammered on it as though anticipating stern resistance from those within. Inside the house Mrs. Ransford was debating the situation with her mistress.
And Dick's seventeen! He won't be satisfied always just to know no more than that our father and mother died when we were very little, and that you've been guardian and all that you have been! to us. Will he, now?" Ransford laid down his letters again, and thrusting his hands in his pockets, squared his shoulders against the mantelpiece.
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