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Updated: June 27, 2025
Beirne's: 'low on the sand and loud on the stone. In the soft-lit room no sound broke the nocturnal stillness except the mechanism of the clock, pushing busily toward the three-quarter mark. Carlisle was looking up at Canning with eyes full of unpremeditated sweetness. Into Canning's face the blood leapt suddenly.
Beirne's private lair, presumably; a pleasant little retreat on the other side of the house, luring the eye through a half-open door. A little to the back, and off the beaten track, this nook seemed to have escaped the irruption of guests altogether. "My lodge, as I live!" said Canning, with interest. "And, for once, I really don't believe we'll find a spoony couple sitting in the best place.
Vivian that I introduced to you that night at his house? They say Mr. Beirne's terribly fond of him." Cally nodded in reply, her gaze entirely blank. It appeared that in this world there was escape neither from the nephew nor from the topic of him. "But what do you suppose he'd do with it," queried Mattie, who was a dear romantic thing "living off down there in the Dabney House?
Remember Amy Beirne eloped with some inventor fellow what's his name oh, sure, Vivian, haha! Lived in Alabama. Here's regards." Mrs. Heth now recalled the name, and also having asked Willie, long since, to identify it. However, she thought the topic just a little inopportune at the moment. "Ah, yes. Mr. Beirne's nephew well! I hope you made this very mild, indeed, Willie?
Dim sounds from above indicated that Mrs. Heth, who had come in a few moments earlier, did not mean to sit up for anybody. She had, however, left the door "on the latch" as agreed. Carlisle and Mr. Canning passed within, out of the biting New Year. It was like stepping into heaven to be at home again, after the rabble and rattle at Mr. Beirne's. Canning shut the door with something like a sigh.
In fact, I didn't know you'd ever seen him but once, or perhaps twice...." Carlisle regretted that mamma had not explained all this. "I haven't more than three or four times.... Twice when I was with you, you remember, and then I met him again at Mr. Beirne's and the Cooneys' some cousins of mine. You see he was a great friend of his...."
After the long and broken evening, he looked somewhat fatigued. Carlisle, already seated, was just beginning to unbutton her left long glove. "Fine hours, fine hours these, for even a play sick-man! Yet I linger on...." "You must stay," said she, "till the last person has gone from Mr. Beirne's." The mantel clock stood at twenty minutes past twelve.
Why should her father's attacker make her think now, of all times, of that night in Hen's parlor, the morning on Mr. Beirne's doorstep, that rainy May-day in his Dabney House when he had overwhelmed her with the knowledge of his superiority?... I, for one, am glad to see women revolting from this condition, asking something truer, something commoner, than chivalry.
It was the most interesting thing happening on the block at the moment, and of course he wanted to see it. Carlisle stared at Mr. Beirne's nephew, caught by his word. "Oh!..." said she. "So you think my father would be much happier if he stripped himself and his family to provide Turkish baths and and Turkish rooms for his work-girls? I must say I don't understand that kind of happiness.
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