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"You might try him," said Truesdale, doubtfully; "but I think Jane has got the inside track. You've heard about her Home, I suppose, and seen the plans for it. I should want to put up an architectural monument in such a ghastly town as this; I should as soon think of ramming an angel into a coal-hole."
Truesdale left behind no precise indications of his movements. The only person to whom he announced anything like a programme was Arthur Fasten, who met him on the way to the station, with his bag in one hand and his kit in the other. "Off, are you?" called Paston. "Don't you begin the season rather early?" "Just for a few days," replied Truesdale; "a little sketching tour up North.
"You wouldn't get through before next week," he said. "There's a couple of passenger engines in the roundhouse, but they ain't fired." The telegraph operator leaned out of the window and broke into the conversation. "Murphy's firing the big eleven for sixteen from Truesdale. You might take that." "Got a good man to run it?" asked Jim. "Jawn Donohue's on the switch engine," replied the operator.
The populations of Italy and Poland and Hungary what view, now, do they take of the government their government, all government? Isn't it an implacable and immemorial enemy a great and cruel and dreadful monster to be evaded, hoodwinked, combated, stabbed in the dark if occasion offers?" "Quite right," acknowledged Truesdale.
The same thing happened when he tried to get out of the building "Sorry, sir. Captain's orders" and the baffled magnate paced up and down the waiting room between long files of light-hearted boys in blue. It was humiliating to consider that he had subscribed heavily toward fitting up the Truesdale armory, that half the officers knew him and feared his influence.
What will they talk about?" "Almost anything; you never can tell. Come along." Truesdale, as an individual, interested Brower but moderately; Truesdale, as Jane's brother, interested him extremely. "You state your case that's the idea; and the worse you make it, the better the face they try to put on it." "Do I? Well, I don't know that I've got a case.
He even gesticulated a tiny illustration or two into the edge of the text. Seldom had these earnest and intent young men heard such a theme presented with so many nods and becks and wreathed smiles; it seemed like the stirring of a cesspool with a silver soup-ladle. "And what consolation have you to offer me for that?" smiled Truesdale, as he finished.
Then she restored the just balance between the two by the thought that Truesdale had taken very kindly to Theod to Mr. Theodore Brower was some ten years older than Truesdale. His hair was beginning to retreat before his advancing forehead, and about his eyes were coming to appear those lines proper to the man who is in business for himself and pretty largely absorbed in it.
He felt that his beard offered but a slight concealment to the nervous twitching of his mouth, and that, despite the muffling of his heavy overcoat, the throbbings of his heart must be as perceptible to Truesdale as to himself.
A superfluity of straw-colored hair, of a shade essentially improbable waved about her ears and temples, and a high gold comb emphasized the loose knot into which it was drawn behind. "She would do better on the stage," Truesdale said to himself; "she has gotten herself up for the photographer. And if all those rings are her own, she has more than any one woman needs."
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