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Updated: May 11, 2025
Champagne here was like so much molten gold; it was assured that Drennen was "going the limit." Drennen lifted his glass. His glance, busied a moment reminiscently with the bubbling amber fluid, travelled across the table. Ygerne Bellaire had raised her glass with him. Her eyes were sparkling, a little eager, a little excited, perhaps a little triumphant. "Isn't it fun?" she said gaily.
You may save us from disaster, although we have had so many experiences first out at Flosston, then last summer at Bellaire. I suppose, like trouble, adventure is bound to come to those who seek it. Now, we are all ready. Have the right shoes on the right feet, have buried our Pirate Threat, and so let's go back home. I'm just crazy to show you the love of a cottage we have."
"Yes, from Bellaire. You won't stay here, now that you're rich." She threw a contemptuous glance about the shop. Jinnie caught the inflection of the cutting voice and noted the expression in the dark eyes. "I'll stay wherever Lafe and Peggy are," she said stubbornly. "Perhaps, but that doesn't say you're going to live in this street all your life.... I want you to go back to Mottville."
He was making light of her now, his question accompanied by a hard, cynical look which told her that she could say as much or as little as she chose and he'd suit himself in the extent of his credulity. "Were you the lovely cashier in an ice cream store? And did you abscond with a dollar and ninety cents?" "Don't you know of Paul Bellaire?" she flung at him angrily.
"That was in the year 1820. Bellaire, though penniless after the disaster of 1815, had managed in the five years to have accumulated much. He was a born gambler and the fates turned the dice for him so that men said that he was in truth the Devil and the son of the Devil. Like the Lady Louise he had his property converted into such form that a man might carry it in his hands.
Then his towsled head and blinking eyes appeared abruptly. "Where is Miss Bellaire?" said Drennen quietly. "I want a word with her." "Mees Bellaire? Hein?" "Yes," answered Drennen a trifle impatiently, though he was holding himself well in hand. "Miss Bellaire. I know it is early, but . . ." Père Marquette blinked at him curiously with brightening, birdlike eyes.
"And we thought the baby mountain at Bellaire beautiful why this ocean is well, it is simply bigger and grander than anything I have ever dreamed of," declared Grace. "No wonder the girls out in Chicago long to spend a summer at the sea shore." "I couldn't even find a word to describe it," admitted Cleo. "Doesn't it look like eternity all spilled out?"
It is like this: Your son love the señorita de Bellaire. She love him. Bueno. I, too, love her. I cannot make her happy and love me; so I will make her happy anyway. And you happy while you die, señor. And your son happy always." They all looked at him wonderingly. He paused a moment, gathered what he had to say into as few words as might be and went on calmly.
As long as she's in Bellaire, the Kings'll always have her here with her fiddle." "Some fiddle," monotoned Jordan. "It's the violin that attracts Theodore," hesitated Molly. "And her blue eyes," interrupted Jordan, smiling widely. "Her talent, you mean," corrected Molly. "And her curls," laughed Morse. "I swear if she wasn't a relation of mine I'd marry the kid myself.
After the engineer of his private train had been killed in the railway station by a bomb dropped from a French aeroplane, and after another bomb had dropped within a hundred yards of the villa occupied by the Kaiser, he moved to a red brick chateau situated on a hill outside of Charleville, known as either the Chateau Bellevue or Bellaire.
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