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Updated: May 26, 2025
This was Miss Anthony's first visit to Kansas and she found much to interest her in Leavenworth caravans of emigrants long trains of supplies for the army, troops from the barracks crowds of colored refugees, the many features of frontier life so totally different from all she had seen and known in her eastern home.
And then somehow it fell open, at a page that was marked by the insertion of an empty envelope. The envelope caught Anthony's eye, and held it; and that was scarcely to be wondered at, for, in his own unmistakable handwriting, it was addressed to Madame Torrebianca, at the New Manor, Craford, England, and its upper corner bore an uncancelled twenty-five centime Italian postage-stamp.
Anthony had but two friends who ever came to see him. One was an old physician who had ceased to practise his trade, which indeed was never abundant, and who would sometimes drink a glass of wine with Anthony, and engage in curious talk of men's bodies and diseases, or look at one of Anthony's toys.
Her voice took up the thread of subject and wove along with faintly upturning, half-humorous intonations for sentence ends as though defying interruption and intervals of shadowy laughter. Dick had told her that Anthony's man was named Bounds she thought that was wonderful!
They rose with the moon, and, in a few hours actually came in sight of the deserter. He was drinking at the river's brink within sound of the roar of St. Anthony's Falls. Perceiving his pursuers approaching, the noble beast threw up his head, gave a loud snort and darted off. Bloody Jim gave an impatient grunt, but Ketchum clapped his hands with delight.
It began to be not unusual for the more sincere of their friends to remonstrate with them, in the very course of a party, and to predict a sombre end for them in the loss of Gloria's "looks" and Anthony's "constitution."
Augustus Anthony's jacket buttons had caught in a fine gold chain upon her neck, and a little gold cross had snapped off, nobody knew where, that belonged to her sister Julia, who made her promise "certain true not to lose it;" and Miss Smith had burst her kid glove right across the hand, and couldn't think of dancing after such a disaster.
"All I want know is how many." From here and there in the store went up little clouds of comment and expostulation. "How terrible!" "He's a raving maniac." "He's disgracefully drunk." The proprietor grasped Anthony's arm sharply. "Get out, or I'll call a policeman." Some relics of rationality moved Anthony to nod and replace his bonds clumsily in the case. "How many?" he reiterated doubtfully.
Dahlia swallowed in her throat, as in perfect quietude of spirit, and pretended to see no meaning for herself in Anthony's words. But she said, inadvertently, "Dear father!" and it gave Anthony his opening. "There it is. No doubt you're fond of him. You're fond o' th' old farmer, who's your father. Then, why not make a entry into the village, and show 'em? I loves my father, says you.
I went and came now to Brosna as one who had a right. I would come in upon Terence Murphy scrubbing a floor or polishing silver or some such thing, and he would look up as my shadow fell on him. "Any news, Miss Bawn?" "None, Terence, not yet." "Ah, well; sure, it's on its way. There's nothing like being ready in time." Day after day now he lit the fires in Anthony's rooms.
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