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This done, Mr. Blyth wasted some little time, as usual, before he began to work, in looking for his drawing materials. In the course of his search over the littered studio table, he accidentally laid his hand on two envelopes with enclosures, which, after examining the addresses, he gave immediately to young Thorpe. "Here, Zack," he said, "these belong to you.
Allen just returned from all the busy idleness of the morning, and was immediately greeted with, "Well, my dear, here you are," a truth which she had no greater inclination than power to dispute; "and I hope you have had a pleasant airing?" "Yes, ma'am, I thank you; we could not have had a nicer day." "So Mrs. Thorpe said; she was vastly pleased at your all going." "You have seen Mrs.
The steamer was as yet concealed behind a low spit of land which ran out from the west to form one side of the harbor. In a moment, however, her bows appeared, headed directly down towards the Straits of Mackinaw. When opposite the little bay Thorpe confidently looked to see her turn in, but to his consternation she held her course. He began to doubt whether his signal had been heard.
What do you mean?" "Just that. Does she believe that you told her the truth?" "Oh! I see. Well, a doctor has to tell a good many lies in the course of a year. He gets so that he can tell them with a straighter face than when he's telling the truth. I don't see why Mrs. Thorpe should doubt my word—my professional word—unless there is some very strong reason for doing so."
He followed Thorpe curiously, peering into the smoking room on him from time to time. A little after twelve his patience gave out. The stolid gloomy man of lower six seemed to intend sitting up all night. "Yo' berth is ready, sah," he delicately suggested. Thorpe arose obediently, walked to lower six, and, without undressing, threw himself on the bed.
IN the noon hour of the following day was enacted the brief final scene in the drama of the "Rubber Consols corner." For long weeks, Mr. Stormont Thorpe had given much thought to this approaching climax of his great adventure looking forward to it both as the crowning event of his life, and as the dawn of a new existence in some novel, enchanted world.
The fact was, that Mrs. Thorpe distrusted her own inflexibility, if she stayed too long in the presence of her penitent son; but Zack could not, unhappily, know this. He could only see that she left him abruptly, after delivering an ominous message; and could only place the gloomiest interpretation on her conduct. "When mother turns against me, I've lost my last chance."
"I only know one or two sections of the country and those only as a stranger. You should ask Miss Madden." "Me?" said Celia. "Oh, I haven't come up for my examinations yet. I'm like Balder I'm preparing." "What I should like Mr. Thorpe to tell us," suggested Lady Cressage, mildly, "is about the flowers in the tropics in Java, for example, or some of the West Indies.
Take a chair, Archie." The man perched on the edge of the chair and looked straight out before him. "Do sing for us, won't you, Mr. Harris?" requested Mrs. Cary in her sweetest tones. The man said nothing, nor moved a muscle, but turned a brick-red. An embarrassed silence of expectation ensued. "Hit her up, Archie," encouraged Thorpe.
"Oh, there are a hundred things in your own game, even, that you haven't an inkling of," Thorpe told him, lightly. "I've been watching every move you've made, seeing further ahead in your own game than you did. Why, it was too easy! It was like playing draughts with a girl. I knew you would come today, for example. I told the people out there that I expected you."
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