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Rodney's docility didn't go to the length of the dose of veronal Harriet had recommended, but it did assent to a program that occupied the greater part of the day, including a Turkish bath, a good sleep, fresh clothes and the first decently cooked meal he had had since he'd dined at the club three days ago.
The result was that the van as a body left the centre to itself, and thereby not only wrecked the concentration at which Rodney aimed, but was out of hand to support his flag and his division, when badly battered by the enemy's fire. This was the great tactical blunder which brought to nought Rodney's patient, wary manoeuvres of the past six hours.
"Here is my letter, doctor. You can read it for yourself." Dr. Sampson's face changed as he read Rodney's letter. It changed and hardened, and his expression became quite different from that to which Rodney had been accustomed. "This is a bad business, Ropes," said the doctor in a hard tone. He had always said Rodney before. "Yes, sir." "That was a handsome fortune which your father left you."
The confession of his superstitious fears exhibits honesty and candour. "His own sailors, however, would not suffer him to search the vessel thoroughly, through superstition, and wished to leave her immediately." A pity they did not try their hands at thawing one of the poor fellows: the result might have kept Mr. Rodney's strange experience in countenance!
The path that ran through the woods to the big road leading from Cape Girardeau to Lesterville, the place where Rodney's companions would take leave of him and turn toward Ironton, was all of three miles long, and so narrow that they were obliged to ride in a single file. Mr.
"I should like such a position very much." "Then wait here a moment, and I will write you a letter of introduction." She went up stairs, but soon returned. She put a small perfumed billet into Rodney's hands. It was directed to John Sargent with an address on West Fifty Eighth Street. "Call this evening," she said, "about half past seven o'clock.
At Rodney's right, she put a girl he had known for years and cared nothing whatever about, and then Howard West who probably wasn't interested in her either, but would be polite because he was to everybody.
The man who as a junior formed the idea of seizing De Grasse's anchorage in the Chesapeake in 1781, to effect the relief of Cornwallis, and who in 1782, when momentarily in chief command, illustrated the idea by actual performance under similar conditions in the West Indies, rose to heights of conception and of achievement for which we have no equivalent in Rodney's career.
She liked his admiration; she dressed, each day, for Rodney's unfailing comment on her clothes. "Clay never notices what I wear," she said, once, plaintively. So it was Rodney who brought Audrey Valentine out of her seclusion, and he did it by making her angry. He dropped in to see her between Christmas and New-years, and made a plea. "A stable-warming!" she said. "How interesting!
An insolent servant-girl came, and she and Rodney's wife started a little drama of incompetency, which should end as the hotel-keeping ended. Wastefulness, cheap luxury, tawdry living, took the place of the old, frugal, simple life. But the mother went about with that unchanging sweetness of face, and a body withering about a fretted soul. She had no bitterness, only a miserable distress.
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