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Updated: May 28, 2025
Bartley leaned toward her. "Dorothy, will you help me make that home, here in the valley, and be my comrade on the trails?" "Hadn't you better ask Aunt Jane?" said Dorothy softly, yet with a touch of humor. "Do you mean it?" Bartley's voice was boyishly enthusiastic, like the voice of a chum, a hearty comrade. "But how about your own folks?"
"Well, I'll be all ready by the time you're here," said the landlord, still holding the hall-door ajar, "Luck to you!" he shouted, shutting it. Marcia locked both her hands through Bartley's arm, and leaned her head on his shoulder. Neither spoke for some minutes; then he asked, "Marcia, do you know where you are?" "With you," she answered, in a voice of utter peace.
The ruffian had the audacity to put up his lamp, as if to scrutinize the person who examined him. "Did I not discharge you?" said Hope. "Ay, lad," said Ben; "but your master put me on again." With that he showed Bartley's order and signature. Hope bit his lips, but merely said, "He will rue it." Burnley sidled away; but Hope cried to one or two men who were about,
Bartley's abstraction and Wilson's reflections were cut short by a rustle at the door, and almost before they could rise Mrs. Alexander was standing by the hearth. Alexander brought a chair for her, but she shook her head. "No, dear, thank you. I only came in to see whether you and Professor Wilson were quite comfortable. I am going down to the music-room." "Why not practice here?
Monckton registered a vow of future vengeance upon his late associate, but in the meantime, taking a survey of the present circumstances, he fell back upon a dark project he had conceived years ago on the very day when he was arrested for theft in Bartley's office.
Anguish for the ruin of her dress overcomes all other fear; she calls upon Bob to defend her. But an immediate conflict was not Jack Bartley's intention. He and those with him made off at a run, Bob pursuing as closely as his unsteadiness would permit.
She begged me so hard: I was at the door. Such a beautiful girl! I could not take my eyes off her." "The child?" said Bartley, with natural impatience. "I have hidden her in the yard." "Bring her this moment, while the clerks are out." Hope hurried out, and soon returned with his child, wrapped up in a nice warm shawl he had bought her with Bartley's money.
These young men and not very wise elders roared over Bartley's frank declaration of the situation Between himself and Ricker, and they contended that, if Ricker had taken the article for the Chronicle-Abstract, he ought to take the consequences. Bartley told them that, of course, he should explain the facts to Kinney; but that he meant to let Ricker enjoy his virtuous indignation awhile.
He's not the fellow to swear to a lie if he could help it; but I guess he expects to get this divorce by perjury." Marcia was putting little Flavia to bed. She heard the talking below; she thought she heard Bartley's name. She ran to the stairs, and came hesitantly down, the old wild hope and wild terror fluttering her pulse and taking her breath.
The refined warmth of Bartley's welcome seemed to make Kinney feel at home, in spite of his trepidations at Marcia's presence. He bobbed his head forward, and stretched his mouth wide, in one of his vast, silent laughs. "Better ask where I'm goin' to." "Well, I'll ask that, if it'll be any accommodation. Where you going?" "Illinois." "For a divorce?" "Try again." "To get married?"
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