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Updated: June 20, 2025
In theory that was well enough, but practically there were countless small difficulties. The strands of life were so tied in, one with another. Opinion was made up of an infinite number of stupid prejudices. In short, no way presented itself of getting rid of Emmy. His mind returned to Meta Beggs. What a woman she was! What a triumph to master her contemptuous stubborn being!
His professions of benevolence towards the crew, and his explanations of his reasons for her powerful armament had sufficed for others, but they by no means satisfied her. "Do you think, Diggory Beggs," she asked, indignantly, "that after all these years I do not know you as well as I do the contents of my linen chest?
When Reuben Hawkshaw returned to the chamber where Diggory Beggs was in conference with the other three traders, he found that these had finished their calculations. "The matter is settled, Reuben, as far as we are concerned. My three friends and myself will go equal shares in the matter.
Simmons was lifted on a horse blanket to the flooring by the counter. There was an outcry for a doctor, but none was present, and it was agreed that the wounded man must be hurried into Greenstream. "He won't get there alive," it was freely predicted; "the top of his head is crumbled right off." Gordon found Meta Beggs on the outskirt of the throng; she was pale but otherwise unshaken.
Loud were the cheers that went up, and no one shouted with more vim than Shack Beggs, who seemed to have gradually come to believe that from this time on there was no longer going to be anything in the shape of a gulf between him and Max, as well as the other chums.
"Gently, Roger," Mistress Beggs said, as he entered the room where she and her two daughters were sitting, at work. "We are truly glad to see you, but you must remember that we stay-at-home people are not accustomed to the boisterous ways of the sea."
"The only question in my mind is, whether they'd have the nerve to come over to this island at night time, just to try and give us a little turn." "Of course they knew all about what we expected to do?" suggested Owen. "We can be sure of that," replied his cousin. "In the first place, Shack Beggs was in that mob that saw us get under way.
He swayed slightly, glowering at her with a hot face in which a vein throbbed persistently at his temple. Miss Beggs had disappeared. "Very well," he agreed heavily. Mounting the stairs he fumbled for his cigar case, and entered the chamber beyond his, clipping the end from a superlative perfecto. Emmy was in bed, propped up on a bank of embroidered pillows.
The men beyond re-entered the buggy and drove toward the village. "What is it?" Meta Beggs asked; "you look pleased." "Oh, I fell on a little scheme," he replied evasively; "a trifle ... worth a hundred thousand or more to me." Her eyes widened with avidity. "I didn't know the whole, God forsaken place was worth a thousand," she remarked.
Lettice, with her unborn child, her youth haggard with apprehension and pain, the prefigurement of the agony of birth, gazed, dumb and bitter in her sacrifice, at the graceful, cold figure that, as irrevocably as herself, denied all that Lettice affirmed, desired all that she feared and hated. "Why, that's bad, Gordon," she reiterated, "I'm your wife. And Miss Beggs is bad, I'm certain of that."
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